In the driveway was a box of a few books. As I was looking through them, the lady managing the sale told me, "There are a bunch of other books over here too if you're interested."
I walked over, and yeah, I barely could control my grin.
JACKPOT!
I bought 15 books from that garage sale at .25 cents each. Most all in like-new condition. (most of these weren't ones I would have purchased new anyway, but for a quarter I'd give them a try, so no writer's guilt...)
The writer I am had to ask who the reader of the house was. Come to find out, it was an elderly woman who was "downsizing" and moving into an apartment/assisted living.
Instantly my mind went to my own grandma. Memories of going to her house and searching her bookshelf flooded my heart. My grandma's bookshelf held my first taste of Christian Fiction, Janette Oke, Lori Wick, and Grace Livingston Hill, to be exact.
A few years ago, my grandparents moved into a nursing home/assisted living facility, and my mother salvaged a few of the books for me from the similar garage sale. There are no words to tell you how special those books are to me. They are how I fell in love with books, they are what birthed the dream of being a writer someday.
Sometimes, in all the craziness of everything, I like to pick one of them up, snuggle up with a blanket, and read one of those "old" books of grandma's. They make me smile, they made me remember, and they make me appreciate the journey.
Because this writing life IS a journey, a crazy, fun, scary, wild, sweet, wonderful journey.
It also makes me appreciate anew the simple act and pleasure of reading a book.
Those "non"-bookies don't always understand this emotional connection we have to a book. It doesn't really make a lot of sense. But it's special. I can't aptly put it into words (oddly enough!) but it just plain is!
Discussion: What was your first "memorable" book you read? Who inspired YOUR writing journey at it's infant stage?
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