To All the Books I’ve Ever Read

As I sit here contemplating what items I move cross country with me yet again, I find it almost more difficult to part with the books on my shelves than the clothes that hang in my closet. So in honor of the deep connections with the pages I thought I would write a love letter to all the books I’ve ever read. Although I know I could not list each and every one, they all hold a special place in my heart. Not sure at what age or what book started my love affair of literature; was it goodnight moon, when you give a mouse a cookie, or Curious George? All I know is that it started early, thanks to my mom and the endless number of trips to our neighborhood library. I can still picture the aisle and shelf where the collection of Curious George books was kept. Thankfully my taste expanded beyond the adventures of a beloved monkey, and only continue to expand. These days I tend to have two to three books on the go at once, which one I pick from the pile dependent on my mood that day. Do I want to get lost in an intricate family drama, learn something new, or challenge my current beliefs? My ability to read has allowed me to travel to far off lands without leaving the comfort of my own couch. Books continue to provide me with an opportunity to healthily distract myself from the current day’s challenges, and I will forever be thankful for this. Evenings and weekends free of any social obligations excite me as they provide me with uninterrupted guilt free time to read. My FOMO has lessened with age, and I have sunk into my love of alone time, although when you have a book in hand are you really ever alone? When you think about it you are becoming one with the characters and stories in the book, and ultimately connecting passively with the many people around the world that may be reading that exact same book at the same time as you are. Reading really does have the ability to connect so many people from so many different walks of life.  You could be reading the exact same sentence at the exact same moment as someone across the world, possibly sharing in a similar emotion whether it’s tears, laughter, or heartbreak together without even knowing it. How amazing is that?

I am always dumbfounded when I am brought to tears or full blown laughter when reading a book, that the words on the page with no visual stimulation can initiate such full-blown emotion. Every single time it happens I am completely amazed, and so thankful that this writer had the skill and the guts to tell this story in all its beauty. Unfortunately, it happens to me everywhere, because well I read everywhere, whether in the middle of a crowded subway in New York, laying on the beach with a crush, or in the middle seat of an airplane sandwiched between two strangers. I have no doubt that I have received some pretty crazy looks from complete strangers; I also know that I have started full blown conversations up with complete strangers because of the book I am reading. Reading is like music, people from all walks of life could be affected by one story, in a thousand different ways. It’s truly an artform and one that I will be forever thankful for.

Because of this, my love for reading has only continued to flourish, as I begin to acquire library cards like passport stamps for the different cities I have lived in. I will always be the girl with a book in hand, starting sentences with “in this book I read,” and the only girl that still has overdue fines from her local library. And I am more than ok with this, in fact I sit here beyond proud and can only hope to pass along these traits to my future children.



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