Monday, June 21, 2010
Books. Books and reading. (insert big sigh here)
Books and reading have been my long companions. They have been my way of life. Books offer solace, laughter, adventure, excitement, knowledge, new ways of thinking, escape, understanding, and pure comfort. For years; my whole life, really, reading has been my greatest source of pleasure; my number one method of self-care.
Why then, can't I find a book I really love? Why can't I settle into it? Why do I have fifty books (the library's limit) checked out and nothing to read?
I am restless, really restless lately. My mind won't settle. I can't sink into a story. I can't seem to pay attention. I can't be still, not even in my mind.
Summer is usually my time for reading. And, I miss it. Oh, I haven't stopped reading, not really. But, I only read in small snatches, tiny bites of time. I pick up and put down. I start and stop and don't finish. What is wrong with me? I want to sink in and stay a while. I want a book so good I stay awake all night. I want a book so engrossing I skip the laundry and the dishes and consider twice before accepting a lunch date. I want to read.
In case you want more...
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