In preparation for NaNoWriMo and working on a book about my kids and dealing with autism as a parent, I’ve been reviewing my autism blog and laughing at some of the stories from when the kids were smaller. I had forgotten about some of the things they would do and it was fun to go back and read about some of their behaviors.

I’m not sure how to structure the book yet and keep thinking that after I’ve read all of the old the blog posts and stories that I’ve written I’ll figure it out. Instead, I have found myself laughing out loud and saying thinks like, “Oh my! I forgot that they did that!”

I still have several years worth of posts to get through but the look back has been eye-opening and encouraging. I can see how far the boys have come since they were diagnosed.

My daughter and I were out shopping and on the way back to the house, I joked about what I would do if I had a sudden windfall and became rich.

We joked about countries we would want to visit and listed England, Scotland, Ireland, Monaco, Italy, Turkey, Japan, South Korea, and Israel before I turned to her and said, “I know what I would do!” Of course, she raised her eyebrow (mimicking a look she has seen from me a million times) as if to say, “Do tell.”

I told her, “I would want to visit all of the famous libraries in the world.”

She was not surprised. We live in a two story town house and somehow, I have five book cases–including two full size, five-shelf bookcases– and they are all stuffed with books. I have a thing about books and libraries. I especially love old books–the smell, the stories, the excruciatingly long and descriptive titles, and the inscriptions inside the covers.

There are some trade-in bookstores that will trade in old hardback books. While on vacation a few years ago, I found what appeared to be a first edition of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The dust cover is missing–which is probably why I got it for only $5. I also found Lord Chesterfield’s Letters to His Son and the Sheridan plays “The Rivals” and “The School for Scandal.”

A small library I used to work for was shedding some of it’s inventory–including some rare books that could not be sold easily because of library tags and markings. I couldn’t let them be thrown away so I have several of the books including a complete set of Dicken’s works printed in the U.S. by P.F. Collier–not P.F. Collier and Son– so I assume this was a printing from earlier in his career and not later.

All of the books have stories in them–and about them. I would have a hard time giving any of them away. Good writers are supposed to be good readers. I should be an excellent writer at this point–I always seem to be in the process of reading a book.

I have a Kindle now that I use to read newer books–especially those I don’t need to keep. However, I still like the turn of a page and the feel of paper. I also like the idea that I am reading the words and thoughts of someone who is no longer alive but is still with us through his or her words.

My husband teases me that I should get rid of some of the books we have. They have to be dusted and there are a lot but I can’t choose. It’s too hard. Sometimes, I can get rid of a book because a newer version is available or online. e.g. The 2017 Guide to Literary Agents is no longer current. But many are like friends, I remember where I was when I found them and how happy I was. Maybe one day the printed page will go the way of the typewriter and cursive handwriting but, for now, I’ll hold onto the ones I have as long as I can.