Day 5:

Lazy and bookish.  Finished reading Gatsby in bed before noticing we'd been granted a stolen morning of sunshine.  A surprise that precipitated a search for dry shoes... a run in the woods... a frolic with the cat in the backyard... and a sneaky pruning of the low hanging pussy willows in the park, which I tied with yellow ribbons and placed on the girls' pillows while they were away at school.  Fun stuff I don't do often enough.

Then I continued to enjoy my books. Recently a neighbor told me that they never go to the library because her daughter thinks the books are dirty and smelly. I think old books and libraries and overflowing bookshelves and quirky used book stores are some of the best things invented.  Most of the books I own belonged to someone before me and the idea of people sharing the same stories and thoughts held within a simple physical object completely captivates me.  I love that our library is not a quiet zone, but is always full of buzzing people, young and old, seeking out the special things contained within those walls.  And the smell of old books to me, is the smell of magic.

Because book magic also includes the way books have the power to make you grab them off the shelf, I spent some time today trying to divine why The Great Gatsby became my most recent choice.  Thinking I might find part of the answer inside For Whom the Bell Tolls (don't bother asking for an explanation), I stumbled on this inscription in my mother's handwriting that says "Recycled to Becky Carver -- 20th birthday -- Dec. 20, 1985."

That's all it took to entertain me all afternoon in thinking that my 20-year-old self actually fancied a used copy of Hemingway, that my 46-year old self still has it (and has read it several times), and that I imagine my 72-year old self will still be thrilled by it. If you haven't read it yet, you know where to come to borrow an old, smelly copy.