It’s been three months since the move
to a new city and things are somewhat in place. School and college sorted for
the kids, yoga class for yours truly and a routine that is beginning to show
some signs of falling into a rhythm.
The local library has been a little
haven for browsing and taking a book home to read. This little library is part
book store, stationery supplier, bill collector, newspaper vendor, DVD renter etcetera.
The books are lined on dusty shelves, not
all with their spines facing out and in no particular order. Most of the books
are dusty and some have pages missing. The books all seem to have been acquired
second hand and that’s the charm for me.
Each week, I pick a couple of books,
sometimes more and it’s interesting to see the inscriptions. Some have just a
name, others have a date in addition to the name, some are gifts. The ones in
the last category are the ones I find interesting. It’s the stuff of
imagination.
Perhaps one of them was a secret gift,
only for the one it was addressed to. Maybe, it was a parting gift from a
friend. Could it be that it was from a friend who no longer was a friend?
The answers will probably forever
remain hidden and those pages would eventually disintegrate into nothingness. Like
all of our lives. The brilliance is not in the history of the life but in the
fullness of the present.
