Yesterday, I moved all of my books. I simply moved the entire collection from one room in my house to the other. Simple might be an understatement. Much heavy lifting and huffing and puffing later, they are all back on their shelves and organized nicely. (well, most of them.) I wanted to rearrange the house, get things the way we want it now before the snow and frost come. Which included hauling armloads of books from one side of the house to the other. (It is not a terrible as it sounds, we live in a small house)
Apparently, heavy lifting makes me introspective. Or maybe it was seeing all of my books stacked up on the floor. Whatever it was, a question came to mind. Why did I have all of these books?
I try to keep things minimal around my home. We live in a small house, with not much space for bookshelves. Compared to some people, I have hardly any books at all. But here I was, surrounded by books in a small space, wondering why I even bothered to keep them.
The first answer, and an easy one, is I love them. They make me happy when they are nicely arranged on their shelves. I have read almost every book I own. When I look at my books, I am reminded of stories and adventures, of drama and happy endings.
My books are loosely divided into two categories that span multiple genres and book lengths. The books that shaped me as a reader and as a person when I was young, and the books that have shaped me as a reader and as a person right now.
Looking at my shelves is like looking at a timeline of my life. Books that still haunt my dreams, though read in elementary school, have a place on their shelves. As well as books which opened my eyes as a teenager to the possibilities out there. There are books which represent my horse phase, the entire Nancy Drew collection which I was obsessed with, and some of my current favorites.
For a book to end up permanently on my shelves, it needs to mean something to me. Either it is a new favorite, or an old favorite. It is signed, or someone close to me gifted it to me. There are books my husband loves which I will never read, they represent his love of books, and our varying tastes.
Because we have such a small space, thought goes into what I keep and into what I don’t keep. There is a reason behind every kept book, and every book I don’t keep. This thoughtfulness has kept our library from getting out of hand and overflowing.
But still, I wish I had more space for books.
Shaina Merrick
The Beauty of a Story 