Monday, May 16, 2011
We like books. We have a lot of books, 64 feet of book shelves full of books and that doesn't even count any of those that are stacked on bedside, coffee, and end tables. We don't just like books, we love books. I have anxiety attacks when I get close to the end of a book if I don't have a new one to take its place. Late night emergency runs have been made to the grocery store to find another book if it looks like I might finish one just before I go to bed.
We spent a good part of the day culling books. We just can not justify moving that many books to North Carolina. I am certain there are more books in High Point. The library is only a few blocks from our new home. It has over 40,000 books in it. There will be reading material. But is so so hard to part with my books.
Many books are saved. Old friends like the Pigs in Heaven, The Chimney Sweeps Son, the Dune Series, and the Doomsday Book make the cut. Margaret Attwood, Maya Angelou, daily readings with Rumi, Mary Oliver, and Tich Nhat Hahn, all stay. An eclectic mix of books. I need these friends to go with me because I need the continuity of these books always being there for me. I need their familiar faces. They are like old friends. I have visited their pages over and over again and will visit them again.
Others books are bagged and ready to go. They are off to Goodwill. Actually many of them are returning to Goodwill. I hope they make new friends.
My children all have Kindles or things like that. I even read several chapters of a book on my daughter's Kindle not long ago. I liked it and it would certainly save on those emergency book runs. But I still love the feel of turning a paper page. I love the look of the spines of books all lined up on the shelf. I love poking through a book shelf to find a book, maybe something I've never read, maybe an old friend that I would like to visit again.
I wonder, am I the only one who has this strange and deep attachement to books?