Many years ago, long before I had ever had children, I had met a man at a work function who spoke about how he still enjoyed reading to his thirteen year-old daughter. At the time, I thought he was a little bit strange. After all, no one in my family had read aloud to me once I knew how to read by myself. I didn't really see the point.
Yet, I now recognize the treasure this man had found. My children are 10 1/2 and 9, both are very capable independent readers, and they still ask me to read to them. I enjoy reading to them as well. I always have. I've been exposed to books I might not otherwise have read and gained entrance into the world that captivates their imaginations. By the same token, I've been able to introduce them to some books that might never have otherwise read. It can be easier to tackle a classic when Mom is the one doing the reading.
I don't know how long these read-alouds will continue. I imagine the day will come when they decide they no longer want to share stories with Mom, but I will always remember with fondness the times that we shared together curled up with a good book. I hope that they will as well.