Rediscovering a Lost Love

My relationship with books has not always been constant. For many years, during my young adult life, I chose to read for two reasons. I was either engulfing myself in information about pregnancy and parenting or exposing my children to the thousands of fascinating books that could shape their world. While all of the words I encountered were read with determination and purpose, I had somehow lost the quest for reading that I had developed as a young child. Why had I suddenly given up on one of my first true loves? Something that had completely and utterly fulfilled me during my entire childhood? Why had I shelved my passion for books and all of the excitement, wonder, joy, sorrow and knowledge that they unlocked as I slid my fingers over their pages?

So many of my memories as a girl are entwined with the magic of books. One of my very favorite sounds was the shuffling noises that resulted when our local librarian checked out my stacks full of books each week. Obviously, in the mid 1980's, libraries had no computer systems. There were no self-check counters. Gosh, I miss those days. Each book contained a small paper pocket in the front cover for record cards. The process that took place to give each book its due date was no quick task compared to today's barcode scanners, but it's forever etched in my mind. First, Miss Kathy would open each of my books and remove the cards, creating a stack of them off to the side of her desk.

Open the book, remove the card, close the book, move to the side. Repeat.

The quietness that existed throughout the rest of the library was barely interrupted by the sliding of my many books, often wrapped in plastic, across the desk. The librarians were always peaceful, tranquil women. They demurely smiled, keeping their heads down as they worked, once in a while offering opinions on the books in my selection. After the collection of cards were all removed from their books' pockets, it was time for my favorite part: the stamping of the due dates. Our small public library had a machine which accepted these cards into them, making a strange, cha-chunking sound as it imprinted the book's due date directly onto the card.

Cha-Chunk
Cha-Chunk
Cha-Chunk

One after another, the librarian would stamp the due dates onto each record card of the twenty or thirty books I checked out every week. I patiently waited, intently gazing at the process, listening to the sound that was so familiar to me, so habitual, so hypnotic.

Next, the cards were reinserted into the books, letting me know exactly when I needed to take my books back to the library.

Open the book, reinsert the card, close the book, move to the side. Repeat.

So relaxing!

I could ride my bike to the library when I was old enough, but my mom drove my brothers and me there whenever we wanted to go. Our library was small, but it was another home to me. Our school library was just as important to me, as was our school librarian and school reading teacher.

Somehow, my impressions of reading for hours, days, weeks and years non-stop as a child did eventually come to an abrupt halt. Once I reached high school, I cannot remember a single book that I read for entertainment. I cannot help but think it had to do with being required to read books not of my choosing. I remember all of the books I read for homework and essays and term papers. How had I, such a book fanatic, lost my love of books? I suppose I was too busy with so many other interests, there just wasn't time for more reading. I have always read magazines, but really reading books for leisure did not make a reappearance into my life until the past few years.

Initially, I had to force myself to make the time to read, but now, it is second nature. I have once again become a library addict. Although libraries are in no way the same as they were when I was a child, and I'm often quite guilty of racking up late fees (shhh, don't tell Mark), I find the same peace in them that I once did. I find escape through books. I find opportunity. I find awareness, enlightenment, humor, acceptance.

We all have a love in our life that has to take a back seat for a certain amount of time. For whatever reason, we have to set it aside until the time comes along again when we are able to reacquaint ourselves with it. Perhaps you have a hobby like photography, scrapbooking or quilting, but you're just too busy with babies or school or your job to do it now. Maybe you miss being outdoors in the garden or fishing at the lake. Do you wonder when you'll ever have time to do it again?

We'll know when the time is right to start again. Somehow, we'll know when our life really needs it. My mind needed the stimulation of real books after many, many years at home with four children. I could only read One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish so many times before I began to forget what my own brain could comprehend.

What do wish you had more time to do? Will you start today?