Tag Archives: books

Remembering the reasons

The last time we moved {almost two years ago} we didn’t unpack our numerous boxes of books. Our reasoning? We cannot have bookshelves with toddlers without anchoring them to the walls. And we didn’t want to do that… because we didn’t think we’d be here that long. Oh and space, we have no space for bookshelves.

Fast forward to knowing we’ll be here for three years total.

I miss my books.

So over the weekend I went searching through hundreds of books for one or two in particular. I went through every single box, because {of course} the specific few I went looking for were in the last box, in the way back of the second thoroughly disected closet, under about six other boxes. In the process, I found about a dozen others that just had to be brought out. Some were mine, but most were my husbands. You see, between my Political Science degree with an English minor, and his English major, we have quite the collection.

Through a closet and two rooms  I called out “Hey, how was Gandhi’s autobiography?”, “did you know you had so many of Kerouac’s books?” and I might have muttered something along the lines of “how many works of Shakespeare can two people possibly own?” They all took me back.

All of those books played an instrumental role in the story of Corinne & Lucas. The first time I saw his apartment I was in love. It was perfect. It was located on a gorgeous street in a historical old New England town. He resided on the top floor of a renovated house, centuries old, with angled ceilings and tiny windows. A view of the street, without the noise, where you could see the snow on the town common accompanied by dog walkers and couples taking a brisk February stroll. But while it had all the staples of a bachelor pad {you know… dvd’s, video games, bare fridge, the just cleaned for a date smell…} it also had books. Rows and rows of books.

And I love books.

We sat and talked about different titles. I stole several minutes staring at the antique works and finely bound collections. The man had books. And he actually read them. He showed me albums of places that he’d been, told me stories of traveling through Europe alone, he came to life as he exposed his love of road trips, nature, and art. It wasn’t one of those first date shows, there was something so sincere and passionate about all that he had done, and all that he wanted to do.

I loved him.

And over the weekend as I got my answers to the questions I called out, “It’s good if you want to know what Gandhi ate” and “yes, I know” and even “did you say something?” I felt this warm fuzzy feeling that you get when you remember a forgotten reason. I smiled to myself several times looking through our collection. At points you could tell which one came from where, a definite his and hers; but the more years we’re together the more the divide dwindles.

I miss our books.

And I still love him.


Please visit Emily at Chatting at the Sky for more Tuesday’s Unwrapped. You’ll find simple moments and simple mysteries unwrapped in everyday life. Enjoy!


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One fish, Two fish

One fish

Two fish

Paige loves

Seuss’s fish

Sept 27, 2009 022

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Words words words

I love words. My problem is, I get stuck using the same ones over and over. Simple ones, hardly big ones, and then when I hear words I like, I can never remember them later to use them. Does that make sense?

I started and finished The Time Traveler’s Wife this week. Well, I thought I was just rereading it before going to see the movie this coming weekend, turns out I never read it. I might have started it… but couldn’t get into it at that point in life. Honestly, I think it was one of those my mom gave this to me to read, what was she thinking? phases where I really only wanted to read Bridget Jonesey type stories…

In any case, I read it in a matter of four nights. I loved it. Every single word of it. It was brilliant. Some of the sentences were so well put together I just sat there and reread them because they were beautiful.

Really good thought provoking books that I can somewhat identify with (no, Lucas is not a time traveler, but it was such a sweet love story that I couldn’t help gazing longingly at him a few times and think how lucky I am to have someone that I’m so in love with be in the present time) do two things to me. They make me say I could do that – I could write a great story! and they make me say how in the world could I write like that?

Sometimes I think I’d like to write. Really write, like it’s my job. Not just the few minutes blogging takes a day. But then, I wonder how I’d come up with the beautiful sentences that I love to read, because I’d want to write what I want to read. I don’t know. It could happen, but I think I need to study a dictionary for the next few years…

And seriously, how does one come up with ideas that I can’t even wrap my head around? My brain gets so twisted around trying to think of the comings and goings in that story. If you’ve read it, you know exactly what I mean. My mind keeps running through the words, beautiful words are hard to get past.


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