Today I observed the bookshelf in my new home, experiencing a deep feeling of satisfaction, as my eyes rested upon it.
‘Strange,’ I thought. ‘How can something as simple, bring out such a strong sense.’
Then I took a moment in the quiet, running my finger along their binds, solemnly standing in line, waiting to be caressed or chosen.
I smelt the creamy off-white paper, observed their dog-eared corners. At different moments in time, I’ve picked up one or another to read: chapter, paragraph or even the whole darn thing.
These books in their way represent my life – the New Zealand and Australia Guidebooks, ‘Committed‘ by Elizabeth Gilbert, my favourite Writer. My newest additions ‘The Lifeboat’ by Charlotte Rogan, ‘Vow,’ by Wendy Plumb. Alongside sits my daughter’s cupcake cookbook, bringing alive many happy moments when aprons were covered in flour.
My Husband’s glasses, his shark book, remind me of a vow to still keep, sitting neatly on the end where he last left them.
One box, a precious keep sake from my long dead Father. The Salvador Dali art book which at times would bring such creative inspiration to my paintings and clay work – On Becoming a Person by Carl R Rogers, a book which I love to use as a tool at times, when working my way through life’s difficulties and issues – the insight of the author held highly in my estimation, especially through the time of my training as a Therapist.
In one small way, this bookshelf is a representation of our little family, our interests and cannot be replicated by a kindle or any other type of book reader – as no technological advances could re-create for us this tiny part of family living – adored and cherished, languishing within our kitchen, where so much of family life is spent.
And I wonder, what do you have on your bookshelf?