Soul

Marcus Cicero once said, “A home without books is a body without soul.”
Lately I feel like I have lost my soul. You see, I’m a bit of a bookworm. If there’s not a plotline in my head somewhere, I’m simply at a loss of what to think about throughout the day. Of course I could focus on reality and the things I need to be getting done, but what’s the fun in that? Between the holidays and work, I haven’t had the time to get lost in a book, until yesterday.
Yesterday, I went to the bookstore. I haven’t been there for a while. I usually swear off the bookstore after I go in semi-manic and drop too much money on books for my children only to realize I didn’t purchase myself one single book. I then become even more depressed and drown my sorrows in another reread of Twilight. Yesterday was a whole different story. I came out with two bags of books, and not a single one from the juvenile department. Throwing caution to the wind, I completely depleted my annual Barnes and Noble holiday gift card in one fell swoop. Most years, I ration the card out, use it only for specific books I can’t find and the library or borrow, and I feel very practical and wise. Not this year.
The moment I walked into the store I knew it was going to be different this time around. I think it was probably the smell. You know, that bookstore smell, paper and ink mixed with coffee and whatever confection they’re heating up at the quasi-café. The smell made me realize how hungry I really was. Not for food, but for words. For stories and characters, for twisted plot lines and poignant endings. My hunger was only heightened to a feeding frenzy when I realized there was a sale going on. I came out with 11 new books. From a skinny novella to my 4th copy of Wuthering Heights (this one I swear the girls won’t get to and rip,) the variety I brought home should be enough to satisfy my parched palate. Let the feast begin!