I have always been a reader; I have read at every stage of my life, and there has never been a time when reading was not my greatest joy. And yet I cannot pretend that the reading I have done in my adult years matches in its impact on my soul the reading I did as a child. I still believe in stories. I still forget myself when I am in the middle of a good book. Yet it is not the same. Books are, for me, it must be said, the most important thing; what I cannot forget is that there was a time when they were at once more banal and more essential than that. When I was a child, books were everything. And so there is in me, always, a nostalgic yearning for the lost pleasure of books. It is not a yearning that one ever expects to be fulfilled.
laying in bed on my clean laundry, listening to brand new, eating malted milk balls, and refreshing all the pages open in my browser.
when did i regress to being 13 years old?
Today feels like the last day of school.
Not in that feeling of “oh God I’m so glad that’s over”, but of anticipation and excitement for what it means to be closing another chapter of my life only to turn the page to another.
Another part of it is that food has been promised, and we all know the last day always means a pizza party.
PS- I quit my job, in case you didn’t realize that.