In my house, books are everywhere. They are on tables, window sills, counters, beds, nightstands, dressers, even the floor. And that’s interesting considering I have given, and continue to give, away so many of my books. But there are always new ones coming and going from the library and of course, there are the children. The children love books and I love that they love books, I really do.
To us, books are entertainment. They are for fun. They are toys. I like it that way, I really do.
Even then, I do love tidy bookshelves. Which is a shame because they don’t really happen in my house. A while ago, Comradde PhysioProffe
asked demanded people share photos of their bookshelves. This sent pangs of unease through me. I used to dream of a library– floor to ceiling shelves stacked to the brim with books except for some gorgeous windows here and there and lots of comfortable chairs and chaises. I let that dream go a couple of years ago and carted bags and boxes of books to the library with its death.
Some times, I regret doing that. But most times I don’t. That’s why I have yet another giant bag waiting at the front door. I can’t decide if I really do want that dream to die or not. I’m not a re-reader. The only book I re-read consistently is The Little Prince (which I gave to my children and can no longer find). So, for a long time I struggled with what the point of the library would be. Stallion doesn’t read. And Eldest does, but a lot of the books I have in my collections are mature and would make me feel uncomfortable seeing him read– some of them, forever probably. I don’t really have many friends these days, and most of them aren’t readers either. Not to mention, I’m still battling with the idea of spending money on books.
All that being said, there are books piled in places in my home. And since Comradde and Nicole and Maggie showed us theirs, I’ll show them mine in all their chaotic glory.
So there you have it– my much slimmed down assortment of books and kids’ insane shelves of books. What about yours?