A Love Letter to Books

Dear Books,

There was a time when I devoured you constantly. Insatiable, I was barely able to put you down and partake in my classes, my friendships, my work. All I ever wanted to do was be within your embrace. The way you shroud the pain, offer an outlet or a distraction, whichever I may need most. You’ve taken care of me since I can remember. Always ready, at any given moment, to make things…better.

And I am so grateful for that.

Over the years, I haven’t always been one to stay with you. I know I come and go, going more often than not. Some years I read 50 of you, others I only read 14, and one magical year I read 71. I’m sure, decades ago, before I began counting, I read many more than that. Without my ever realizing, you were the reason I woke up so many days. I needed to know what happened next, and you always delivered.

Your loyalty never faltered. Never falters. To this day, regardless of how many of you I read, or don’t read, or simply hold in my hands, each time I reach for you, you are there, waiting for me. Ready to tuck me in and tell me everything will be okay. If only for a moment.

It always is. With you.

Thank you. The words seem so minuscule, but they are the truest. In all the chaos of life, the peaks and the tumbles and the dark spots, you remain steady. You are my North Star, guiding me back to myself each and every time I lose the way. With every page I turn, every chapter I finish, I feel myself centering, strengthening.

If only there was a way to return all this goodness you give. But until any of us can figure that out, I promise to keep reading you, grateful that you will forever be there, waiting for me, guiding me home.

Love,

Colleen