Tuesday, June 30, 2015
My bookshelves are overflowing with books that I am reading or wanting to read. I am also so grateful that I can read. I feel for those who have poor sight, for those who never learned to love reading, for so many now that do not have books, do not have the opportunity to go to a public library and browse, for those who do not read.
We had built-in bookcases in our living room; their were four of them. My Dad had the one to the right of the fireplace and I had the one on the left. The other bookcases were on either side of the entrance to our spacious room that ran the full width of our home. We had French doors that opened onto a small, wrought iron balcony overlooking an enclosed garden complete with a stone bench and bird bath. I loved that room. We all read and loved to read at least from first grade. However, when we had the first television set on our block, my brothers were addicted to whatever they were allowed to watch and the youngest in our family learned by hearing rather than cultivating a love of reading.
I am most grateful for this gift of loving books, but now I seem to be collecting too many. I do not like reading spiritual books on my I-pad. I have another whole library of interesting books there. Maybe I will need to find more time to catch up with all the good books waiting to be read. In the meantime, I look at the books and feel gratitude.