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Amy Sherron

Amy's open, honest style of writing won her the honour of being our first scholarship recipient at G. W. Graham. Her clear vision shines through her poetic style, offset by her innocence. Paragraph three took our breath away. Congratulations Ms. Sherron, we just know you're destined for great things.

CAREER GOAL: Medical Field of Science
EDUCATION PLANS: Bachelor's of Science, UFV
STUDENT PROFILE: Pay-It-Forward (Salvation Army), Sacristan/Lector, Squirettes, Life Teen programmes, volleyball, basketball, grad volunteer, grad fundraising committee.

To a friend far across the horizon...

We find them in unexpected places, like in car seats, park benches and flaps in a backpack. They each have a particular feeling to them. One can never equal or match another as they are all composites of a single race, the human race to be exact. Books are extensions of the soul portrayed through the mind and the body of an individual. When someone writes some form of literature they are giving away a little piece of them self to share with the world. It becomes an intricate person all on its own, because the author's personality and soul are laid out in its spine.

For me, reading a book means falling into someone else. I love this idea of letting myself glide into the depths of another individual. It makes me feel. I feel because other people sometimes let me see them. They open their eyes to mine and I see far more than color. I feel them, and wrap around the iris of their moment. They are mine for a second. As humans, each one of us has some sort of desire, no matter how small or large, to express what is in our hearts. We have a yearning to be wound together like the stitches in a quilt, while at the same time we want to be a unique patch. We feel things. We often feel and cannot make sense of what our soul is interpreting through our mind and body. The things people write about elongate the mystery and interpret who we are as people.

Books are the people I will never meet and the friends I will never have. They are my childhood friends and mythical escapes to drifting grains of sand. They are emotions I feel for everyday and the burdens I will never bear. I reach out to the people in these books and bury my face in the clouds of their dreams. I embrace the lightly wounded fabrics of their presence and lean my head onto theirs. And then I am torn from the inside, stretched and mended after each journey I have inside a book.
Yes, books are very important to me. They help build my spirit, my vocabulary, extend my thoughts, and preserve the identity of other people. I can imagine and dream all with the power of human ideas. They offer me a world of privacy, dignity and love.

When I was small my mother gradually had less and less time for me because of my other siblings. I stopped getting tucked in far earlier than them and had to wait a long time to say goodnight. I remember one night I wanted to read Pippie Longstocking with my mother. She said she wouldn't take very long tending to my sisters, but that wasn't the case. I ended up falling asleep long before she was finished. She woke me up to see if I still wanted to read, but I could barely keep my eyes open.
As time passed my mom would give me a special treat every now and then. On rare nights she would pull out a Minnie Mouse story book and read it to me. There were about seven thin books in the series, and I loved them. They taught me about friendship, and doing the right thing. These small books taught me some of the greatest life lessons. For example, if it rains, plan your picnic indoors, and if your friend steals chocolate from the market, go back with her to return it.

Nowadays literature IS me. The more I read, the more I feel that I am becoming who I read. My current favourite is The Lovely Bones; I'm not dead like Susie Salmon, but I plan to find an in-between where I can be head to head with you.

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The Book Man

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Amy Sherron

To a friend far across the horizon...