Today some books arrived in the mail. It’s rare that any acquisition can make me happier than a stack of books.
I adore books. It just wouldn’t be the same to read a book on a Nook or Kindle. I love the feel of books and the turning of pages.
So many pages I’ve turned in my life.
When I was a child, I spent a lot of time in the small town library. There I was in heaven. It wasn’t a big building. But to me it held exotic travels and meaningful characters and worlds I could scarcely imagine.
I regularly checked out all the books I was allowed. I read voraciously. Still do.
I love to gaze at the bookshelves that hold my books. I don’t quite understand the fad of turning the spines inward. I want to see them, be reminded of what I have read. What I hope next to read.
I usually read in bed, at night, with the pupsters tucked alongside, snoozing. I relish getting to know and understand the characters and learning about and finding new authors. It is time well spent and very relaxing for me.
As a child, there were no books or magazines in our home. Not sure why. But now I cherish my books. I cherish my time sitting in bed, peacefully turning the pages.
As I turn the pages of my life.