Sunday, April 10, 2011
I have a confession to make...I love reading. And not just in the way I love making dinner for my husband, clean sheets or mint chocolate chip ice cream...I love it in a way that I yearn to hold a book in my hands, to feel the pages between my fingertips, to smell the papery-inky smell that books have not matter how many times they have been read. Opening a book is like getting a call from a wonderful friend who makes you feel alive, happy, excited, and real every time you talk to them. I feel genuinely sorry for those who don't read, because they are truly missing out on one of the most brilliant inventions ever-the written word. With the move to Montana and the stress of organizing, packing, and moving across the country I haven't had much of a chance to read this past month or so. Now, since I am still jobless and currently "widowed" (Joe's gone on a fire) I have been able to bend the spine and turn the pages again.
I don't think I can label everything that brings me enjoyment from reading, but I do know that my mind is completely free to imagine anything and everything. Some books simply allow me to escape into a world that isn't mine, where I can explore, learn new things, and solve other people's problems without having any repercussions for the terrible advice that I give or the gallons of ice cream I eat. Those books let me believe in overly-buttered popcorn, unicorns or that I really am a princess without judging me or telling me I'm being silly. I'd rather be silly and excited with my nose stuck in a book than cynical and sophisticated with my nose stuck in other people's business.
Others challenge, convict, enlighten, thrill, inspire me. Those books let me believe that maybe one day I really will be a writer (For crying out loud, Snooki wrote a book so I should be able to also!). Or that I will throw great dinner parties, with all the right kinds of food and a strategically pieced together outfit that I look flawless in without looking overdressed. Or that perhaps one day I will have all the right things to say and be witty and charming while having perfectly styled hair and clear skin. Or that maybe I am just fine the way I am. That maybe this path I'm on is o.k. and I can find reasons to celebrate my day to day life and am able to think that maybe I'm not really a failure for not having a full-time job yet...or a job at all for that matter. And those are the books I love the best. The ones that I see bits and pieces of myself in and still feel good in my own skin. The ones that say you are not alone. Other people burn cookies, don't take showers and have 245,987 split ends. That's life and I'm o.k. as long as I'm living it. I'm o.k. as long as I'm celebrating this life and the tens of thousands of blessings the Lord has given me today and every day.
So I do believe that for the rest of my life I will continue to snuggle up with books of all sorts (except Kindle sorts) and some days I'll get to be a princess in a different world while other days I'll just be me here on planet Earth. And either way, I'll be happy.