The Bookworm
“Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.” -Lemony Snicket, Horseradish
I always get a little sad when I finish a great book.
I recently finished reading the Harry Potter series, and afterwards I needed some time to be in my feelings. Admittedly, this was the third time that I had read these books, but the way everything comes together really gets to me. I listened to the first four books on iBooks in my car since my commute to work was so long and boring, and a part of me felt like I was cheating a little because I wasn’t actually reading. Also, I would catch my mind wandering at times about work or kids or whatever else, and I would have to go back and try to find the spot where I stopped paying attention. Audio books are not for daydreamers.
After I wrapped up the series, I wandered around for a couple of days trying to decide what to read next. I felt a little empty. I had been reading Harry Potter since September or October, which is a crazy long time unless you’re a mom who only has thirty minutes a day to dedicate to a hobby. I usually fall asleep in bed halfway through a chapter, and I get mad at myself for not being able to stay awake longer. Who beats themselves up for being exhausted? Apparently I do. There are simply not enough hours in the day. Sometimes, it takes me a month to finish the easiest of reads. Now that I was finished with Harry and Ron and Hermione, I had to find something that was equally as engaging to distract me.
My bookshelf is cluttered with random titles. Used bookstores are my spirit animal, and I am convinced that I should open one just so I can be excited to go to work everyday. One of my favorite things in the entire universe to do is to visit the library book sale at the fairgrounds in Raleigh every year. It was obviously cancelled in 2020 because of the pandemic, and I missed it so much. My mom and I make a big trip out of it. We coordinate our schedules, check the weather, and decide in advance where we want to have lunch (because good food is important!). This is a shopping trip that involves saving boxes for packing, making extra space in the trunk, and bringing a hand truck. We can easily lose an entire day there, browsing rows and rows of dusty books piled on tables. We bring home the most random selections, things that we may or may not even like, just because they’re cheap. After we read them, we usually swap. I almost never hang on to books that I have already read unless it is categorized as a favorite that I will undoubtedly read again. Sharing is way more fun.
Yesterday, it was almost 60 degrees and surprisingly sunshine-y, so I bribed the girls with a trip to the park. I grabbed my book (Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend by Matthew Dicks) and buried my whole face in it while the girls played. The other moms were totally into watching their kids go down the slide over and over. Not me. This was the most quiet time I had encountered in days. I just wanted to lose myself in the story for a bit while the girls entertained each other. Having twins means there is a built-in playmate. Twenty minutes of “alone” time at the park is my reward for the everyday chaos. At one point, they wanted to go down the same standalone slide over and over again, and I found myself standing off to the side, paperback open, probably looking a little odd. I tried not to care.
I finished most of what remained of my book while we were there, and I was already thinking about having to choose my next read. As the girls and I came around the corner of the parking lot, I saw it…one of the little free book swap contraptions that look like a birdhouse. I was so excited to see it. I felt a little guilty that I wasn’t finished with my book so that I could pop it in to share. (Although I also know that I want to pass this one on to my mom like we always do.) I couldn’t help but take a peek. I rifled around for a few seconds and there is was….a shiny newish paperback with “New York Times Bestseller” on the cover. My next read.
