I love books. I always have. I was the kind of kid who would, on a Saturday, ride my bike to the library and spend hours roaming the shelves. I’d totally judge books by their covers and delight in the fact that I was often right about them. And I’d look forward to used book sales like I now look forward to shoe sales. I’d load up on 25¢ paperbacks and craft books. And I’d actually read them, not just hoard them. When I was in middle school I won a writing contest and the prize was a gift certificate to a book store. I agonized over how to spend the prize money. I ended up getting a book of poetry, bound in blue velvet, a college dictionary, and the complete works of the Bronte sisters. I still have those books.
There was a time in my adulthood when I had a library room, every wall lined with shelves and every shelf containing books. However, with all of my moving, it became necessary to downsize. I now have just a few bookshelves and only books I couldn’t part with, along with a lot of reference material like gardening and decorating books. It also happened that as I got older and busier, I didn’t read as much. I’m just now getting back to reading more regularly. It’s a happy reunion. Going into the warmer months, I look forward to sitting out on my deck in the chair designated for the purpose, book on my lap. I’m thankful today that I was able to pull the chair out of the shed and get it set up and ready. Unfortunately, by the time I was able to sit down with my book today, it was too dark outside to read there. But I’m hoping to get out there tomorrow.