I like one-word snappy nouns so if BOOKLOVER was one word, I would adopt it as my own, slap it on my business card and letterhead. Separated, the words dangle, wedded, they wow me. ; A lover of books, I am, I am. Even my old, bedraggled, dog-eared, grungy ones. You know, the ones that get put on the bottom shelf because of their unsightly appearance and curly pages.
Yearly, I take inventory of my books to convince me that I must edit my shelf for some reason. Usually, this occurs in the spring during what I loosely call, Spring cleaning. So, dutiful I am to my inner critic, I stoop down to the lower shelves to downsize my stash of books. A friend suggested that I might share my books with the nearby thrift store and help others. I smiled but secretly thought that that would be like giving one of my kids to the corner cafe.
I love my old books, especially my little paperbacks. They've stayed with me through multiple moves, moody days and mushy moments I'd rather not mention. They are my friends; they instruct, they calm me when I'm near hysteria and they deliver all sorts of wisdom, homely tips and kindnesses when I'm feeling sort of, righteous and good. Here is a list of some of the little paperbacks that have changed me for the better:
The One Minute Manager, Trust the Process, An Artist's Guide to Letting Go, Freedom of Simplicity, Hinds' Feet on High Places, Funny, You Don't Look Like a Grandmother and my all-time favorite little paperback: My Utmost For His Highest, the little paperback that walked with me and held my hand (and heart) through my first months of widowhood.
Now, can you just imagine me ridding myself of these masterpieces of kind literature that befriend me even when I'm cranky or confabulated about reducing my stash of books.
