Certain Books

Certain books:

I like my books dog-eared with remembered meaning and affection, hard loved from carry and travel with me. Books, certain books, are life long companions, having earned their place through cherished chapters of revelation and the sheer delight of their expressions. My life has been changed and its direction swayed from reading just the right words and at the perfect time for their meaning to meet me. Certain books have been my spiritual guides, a coach for a new endeavor, advisors for a particular skill I wish to learn, and most of all a trusted source of inspiration and deep comfort in times most needed.

certain books have earned their worn and dog-eared love.

there are some books from my childhood sitting on my current shelves, belonging to my permanent library of affection, the memory of their first reading still fresh within my mind. I have books that belonged to both my father and mother in their childhood, their love transferred through the now yellowed pages, yet every word still fresh the meaning that so stirred them many years ago. My parents were depression age children, my father particularly poor, and both their families struggled for the necessities of life, with even the basis often scarce and always hard earned. Yet at Christmas there was a book carefully and lovingly wrapped found beneath the tree, given at birthdays too, and these were gifts given from the heart, pennies saved through a long year of struggle and denial of many things that were certainly much needed. But the joy brought by just the right book, certain books that offered adventure, knowledge, moments of travel through the thrill of their imagination — every point of struggle was made worthwhile by the joy that was discovered in those pages.

there are books I’ve long considered treasures, not to be parted from.

my own childhood was troubled in some ways, although never poor, and always loved and cared for, there was a deep loneliness from an early age, being shy, often frightened by things that I couldn’t explain then or even now. The only places where I felt that I truly belong were in the nearby nature or lost deep within the pages of the latest library find. Almost every week we made trips to the library, stacks of books brought home, and never a holiday or birthday passed without a book given. Many…

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