I love books! I love to read. I love the way a book feels in my hand. I love to look at my book collection. I love the fact that there is so many of them to choose from.
Books talk to me. Some books strike a chord in me. Buy me! Read me! They taunt me. I can’t go into a bookstore without buying one. Even when I’m in the airport boookstore and my carry-on is full, I am taking pictures of books I want to read when I get home with my phone.
I think I may be a book whore.
I have over a 100 books in my collection. They vary in genre — fiction, romance, self-help, writing, weight loss and financial. Louise Hay and Nora Roberts are my two favorite authors.
My love of books is a gift my mom gave me when I was little and she used to read to me before bed. I read all the way through grade school, middle school and high school and knew the school libraries very well along with our public library. I was always bringing home books, but never read them all. I still do this today when I go to the library. I know I’m not going to read them all, but I still bring them home anyway.
Maybe it’s because inside I think the book will help me get closer to my dreams or fix something in my life. Maybe give me a key to a door I feel is locked. Maybe there is a part of my life that needs to be healed. Or maybe I just need to get lost in someone else’s life for awhile. It makes me appreciate my life more.
I have books in my office, in our bedroom, in the living room and in the basement. I buy them at bookstores, thrift stores and garage sales.
Do I have too many books? Probably. Will I read them all? Probably not. And this is ok.
I’m 52 and I deserve to have what I love surround me.
And I love books!