Books... how I love thee

I know in life we are suppose to strive to not be so attached to things, and I do really try to do this. Clothes, cars, household things, all of these I could live without... or... well okay, I'm not that enlightened. Maybe what I mean to say is I'm not so concerned with them. I appreciate them, and am of course thankful for whatever they add to my life, but I don't find myself consumed with them. Books on the other hand, are another story. I love them. Truely, I do. I love the smell of them, the feel of them, the anticipation that comes with opening a never before read book. I love old ones, new ones, and ones from almost every genre. They have inspired me, supported me, informed me, and made me laugh. Many times, as a result of a book, my life has changed.

My love affair with them begin as early as I can remember. First being read to by my parents, then learning to read (ahhhhh what freedom), then came school and library cards and "bookorders". There was a short time where books may have taken a back seat... but not for too long. College brought me back, first with the purchasing of textbooks, and then with my "discovery" of Barnes and Noble (which I could sit at for hours at a time). There came a time when I was so passionate about them that selling them became a dream of mine. A few years after college I opened my very own bookstore. I ran it successfully for two and a half years until the combination of the economy and having a baby made it become increasingly difficult to the point where I had to let it go.

Since then I've returned to just being a collector of books (which continues to grow at an astounding rate). This last weekend I finally finished unpacking all of them. Instead of putting them all in one room as I did at our old house, they are spread out throughout the house (I think there's a bookcase in every room). Anyway, it feels so good to have them all in their place. I missed them (yes, I'm crazy).