Books have always been my friends. They are my teachers. They are my respite. They roil my mind and they soothe my soul.

I read things that are good for me and things that are good for nothing but a sweet hour away. I have discovered wonder, uncovered facts that changed everything I know to be true, and laughed myself silly.

What an amazing invention. People think and write things and you get to know what those things are. It’s amazing when you think about it. People you don’t know. People who live across the world. People who have been dead for centuries.

They’re a problem because they do seem to pile up around my house. Not as quickly as they used to do, since I keep the fluff on the kindle… but still.

What fascinates me, saddens me is that people use them to disseminate hate. Such sacred things, books, and people desecrate them. I know, they are dealing with their truths… which i decry as untruths… but there you are.

It’s many a book that has been toted around by me, many that have become part of my bedding, changed with the sheets. Books that I have reread, books I have tossed across the room in disgust, books that have place of pride on my bookcases, until they’re passed along to someone else.

I don’t know about you, but I’d do better to bring them in, read them, cherish them, and let them go…

But, oh, oh, oh, the Peace! Books are a wonderful thing in my life.