”Books may well be the only true Magic.”
The first thing I did when I woke up was to turn on the air conditioner. It is already 81°, hibernating weather, and the humidity is 87%, both inside and outside. We are back to clouds and a dark day. We may have thunder showers. I hope so.
My house is quiet except for the sound of the air conditioner. The dogs are having their morning naps, the first of many naps. They lead such hard lives.
I have chores I can do, but I am not in a chores frame of mind, maybe later. The last few days I have been ensconced on the couch with book in hand. I have several books on my iPad Kindle app, but I like the feel of a book, the actual turning of the pages. Yesterday I finished Forrest Gump. It was far different than the movie, but it hooked me fast. The book had been a Christmas present, but it got piled with other books, and I forgot it was there. It was serendipity when I found it on Tuesday.
I remember reading Little Women. It was a Santa gift. Santa always knew what I’d like. That book held me from the first page, and I only put it down at night when my mother demanded I turn out my light and go to sleep. I’d pretend to do just that, but, instead, I’d sneak and read my book under the covers. I’d use my over the headboard light under layers of covers so I could read without detection. I remember how hot it got under the covers. I’d have to come up for air. My favorite character was Jo. She was creative, independent, stubborn and a bit feisty, all attributes I admired. When Beth died, I mourned.
I was so taken by Jo and the March family that I read Little Men and Jo’s Boys, the sequels to Little Women. I still have that present from Santa, the actual book I received. The pages are yellow befitting the age of the book, and the spine has nearly fallen off. The glue didn’t last.
Years back I bought a whole collection of the Jo’s books. There are six of them. When the books arrived, I read all six of them. I was back with the March family.
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