A book leads me from the mundane. Carries me toward truth and escape. Gives me hope there is a world where I’ll find peace.
A book introduces me to new friends. Lures me into their dark and swings open their doors to reveal the light. It’s not always enough to see, but there is a glint, a sliver of sun creeping across the floor or wall.
A book flies me to India, Paris, or an old lady’s home in the middle of nowhere. Middle Earth and mysterious islands I’ll never see in this lifetime. In pages, across words, I sail open seas and scale giant mountains.
A book opens my heart and lets it bleed. Tears of joy and empathy, bursts of laughter, small gasps and sighs. They tumble freely from the wound and mend the broken pieces of me.
A book shows perspective. Heals the troubled scars on my soul with the power of words. A book is my 12-step; my therapy; my drug of choice. Under its care, I feel finally free.