I love books. It seems like no matter how much I try to weed out my collection and give books away, I end up with even books in the end. I have books that I will never be able to part with, and unfortunately there are hundreds of those in my collection. Is wish I could say that the books I see as must-haves only numbered in the tens. So far, I just cannot seem to part with them.

I have, however, been able to get rid of my textbooks. They cost so much in the first place that it was easy to justify selling them online in order to make a good bit of that money back. In fact, I just got a notice that one of my books on Communication Disorders sold. I had forgotten that it was still listed and it reminds me that I need to re-list some of the textbooks I took off my sell list so I could pack to move last summer.

Give me a house with an entire room just lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves and I would be a happy camper. When I walk into someone else’s home and don’t see books, I wonder about how they can live without having books around to read whenever they want. I know there are those who actually don’t read if they can help it. I cannot seem to put myself in their shoes. My mother read. My father read. They passed along to me an example of voracious reading and I carried it with me throughout my life.

My own daughter cannot yet read. She does love books, though, and I hope that she will ser the value of reading in her life the same way I do.