Threehundredandfortyseven books

imageedit_1_7818283580Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Shelf 

347. Threehundredandfortyseven. I counted and then recounted them all, because I couldn’t believe I had so many. 347 books accumulated over the years.

Many I didn’t even remember, let alone read. Many more were old, bought in thrift stores for a dime each. I liked being surrounded by them, putting them on the shelves and just looking at them. It was the one thing that everyone always noticed when walking in my bedroom. ”Wow, you must really love books.”

But they had to go, at least some of them. Because my room was way too small to hold 347 books. Many of them didn’t fit on the shelves and were stacked on top of my wardrobe or underneath my bed.

Fifty books were going to goodwill. Fifty more were sold on the internet. 37 of them were given to friends who I knew would like those stories. But there were still too many.

I didn’t just want to throw them away, those books I once enjoyed. They deserved a new home as well.

Then I forgot one of the books I was going to give to a friend on the train. It won’t surprise you that I never saw that book again. I kind of liked it that way, not knowing where this book was now. That it could be anywhere, with anyone.

I’ve now left over forty books on trains, subways and busses. Each with a little note saying that I want the book to have a good home. And I like it that way.

Photo taken by Patrick Tomasso (via Unsplash.com)

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