I called him with a seemingly innocent question: “Do you like Abraham Lincoln?” He expounded upon the reasons that he loves and admires Lincoln, and then got around to asking me why I had asked.
“I’m sorting through books, and wondered if you would mind if I put all my Lincoln books in your office.” He laughed and told me that of course I could put my Lincoln books there, as it would give me a reason to interrupt him when he was working. He knows me well.
From the time that I discovered words made sentences which eventually told a story, I was hooked on books. My personal library is an eclectic collection ranging from the Trixie Belden books I have lovingly recollected, to mystery novels by James Patterson, Catherine Coulter and Stephen White to classic novels by Steinbeck and Hesse to non-fiction books on the Civil War and WWII eras to books on spirituality and holistic medicine to business tomes. I’m not counting the past issues of Simple Living, Smithsonian, and National Geographic nor the countless comic books, portraying the tales of Wonder Woman, Batman, and The X-Men.
I love the look and feel and smell of books. From the time that I discovered that The Nancy Drew Books, arranged in order, looked smashing on my shelves, I have preferred to own the books that I love. But don’t think my library is a collection of perfectly arranged books in pristine condition. You’ll find dog-eared pages, boarding pass bookmarks and underlined passages throughout.
My personal library isn’t contained in one room, but scattered throughout several rooms of the house. My collection of childhood books reside in the top of my closet. Business books and much of my non-fiction collection resides in my office. Mystery Novels and the books on Spirituality live in my bedroom. Cookbooks are mostly in the kitchen, though a few of those are taking up residence in the small office off of the living room. I’m not counting the books on my kitchen table, which need to be returned to Melissa nor the books in the living room (I’m reading a couple) nor the “emergency chick lit” book that stays in my briefcase.
He is a lover of the written word as well. I believe he has read more books than any other human I’ve ever met, and his tastes are more varied than mine. I’ve only seen a small portion of his collection, as it could be rude to paw through his books during the precious time we’ve been able to spend face to face. I know that when we work out things to be living in the same place, his books will find a home with mine. The room that is to be his office is sparsely furnished at present. But there are a few bookshelves there, just waiting to be filled. And we can always buy/build more.
In the organization of my library, I was filled with a bit of a longing to give that space a head start. Books have always brought me warmth and I want that room share that warmth. Knowing that someday soon, his books will happily mingle with mine and our home library will be a source of much joy and warmth for all who live — and visit — here.
In my world, libraries represent love.
(This entry serves as my contribution to the Sept/Oct Cafe Writing Project on Libraries – Option 6)
I can feel the love of books in this prose. It makes me love books even more. It’s a wonder what books can do to us.
Thank you for sharing your library to us.