Treasure. That is what is felt like.
My Grandma Minor’s back room in her little house on Elm Street was f-u-l-l of books. She figured she had somewhere in the neighborhood of 2000 books in a room the size of a modest bedroom. It was like a giant treasure chest.
Sometimes, Grandma would let us go back there and pick out a book to * gasp * take home! This was an exciting thing. One thing my siblings and I have certainly inherited from our grandmother is the love of books and reading. I remember living for the day we went to the library. I would pick out the allotted number of books set by Mom, (she couldn’t let us get too many-it would have been crazy.) bring them home, and devour them like watermelon on a hot summer day.
Last weekend, Karl and I found a treasure chest akin to my grandma’s backroom: a used English bookstore in the heart of Tokyo.
We had just hit the jackpot.
At least that is what it felt like. We were thrilled and spent waaaay too much time and money in there. But we didn’t care. We perused the overflowing shelves of books in search of gems. And boy did we ever find some.
We found (and bought) novels, guidebooks, dictionaries, how-to books, and more. It was like Christmas.
To keep the book love flowing, I and thinking about setting up a monthly brunch/book exchange.
Now if I only had more time to read…