25/09/2024
Why do I love books? They're expensive but I keep buying even if I won't be able to read them. Yes, I am guilty of being a hoarder. I just like to have them, stare at them most of the time, but don't really find time to read them all.
My love for books started when I was 10 years old. I actually started reading comics at the age of 5. I remember there were plenty of Pinoy comics in our house because my cousin loved to read them. Oftentimes she would ask me to rent at a nearby store and excitedly, I would obey because there was a comics novel that I follow during that time. I also remember that I learned my first English sentence in comics (What about me?). That was how I became addicted to reading. And then my Papa who was a lawyer had a small personal library and I loved staring at those bookshelves that he maintained. In that same area, he also had an office table with a nameplate made of stone. During playtime, I would sit there and pretend being a boss with the bookshelves at my back. I would replace his nameplate with a carton, my own name written on it as 'General Manager'. That would cause the people in our household to burst into laughter. Anyway, when Papa wasn't around, my eyes would scan through the titles of those leatherbound books in the shelves. Whew! My young mind couldn't really absorb those highfalutin words but I loved picking a book, holding and opening their pages. Even if I could not yet understand their contents, my love for books had already began in my subconscious. One day, as I was taking one book from my Papa's shelf, he caught me. I was terrified when I realized that he was staring at me as I knew that he didn't want anyone touching his things. But surprisingly, he didn't get mad at me. He asked me if I like one. I immediately said 'yes'. He didn't have a children's book so he took out a pocket-sized book authored by Lyndon B. Johnson. I will never forget this scene between the two of us and how he told me that it was not a book for me but that he wanted me to read it and tell him what I learned when I finish it. I was 10 years old at the time. It was Papa and I could not disappoint him. He was the only person I wanted to impress that time. So I read it and even if there were so many things that were hard to understand and uninteresting in the book, I just told him about it when I was done. I will never forget the smile that curved his lips when he heard all that I had to say about the book. He said I can keep the book and take care of it. And I did! It was my first treasure, but most importantly, it caused my hunger for more knowledge that I could gain through reading. So I began to collect my own books. And I discovered that my hunger couldn't really be filled. There are still a lot of books out there that I haven't bought. And I just couldn't stop the urge of buying them to surround my space even if I could no longer keep up. I could not read all of them because I have other things to do. But why can't I stop wanting to have them? Maybe I can trace the answer back to my childhood. Books were so comforting to me then. In the house where I grew up, my Papa's personal space, his bookshelves were the only things I found solace. When every part of me was breaking, I would sneak in there, open some books and read paragraphs that were difficult to comprehend but somehow gives me relief. And now in my adult years, I still find books comforting. I feel safe when I am surrounded by them. People can leave and abandon me but books wouldn't. Whenever my heart gets broken, I can always go back to them because they are the ones waiting for me to pick them up to escape this world of pain and help me heal. And I am sure that they would always be here for me even when times get tough.
Written by:
Red Mary
092524
