Books Bring Life
When I was in college, I wrote a paper on how books bring life because it was my escape from the real world. Childhood memories should be a happy, pleasant times, but I was trying to elude them.
At a very young age I ran away to never see my mother again. At first, they put me in a foster home to make sure that I carried no diseases before being send to the children’s home, but my reading never ceased. It was a pleasant time in my life as the Adam’s, who ran the home, really loved children. In fact, they adopted two to raise as their very own.
My physical needs were met, but I still did not have my own mother’s love. While I was much happier, I still felt a need to become embedded into the character of whatever book I was reading because it brought life.
Even adoption for me wouldn’t fill that void for a mother’s love. After about two years, she started to consume a nerve medicine that let her to become addictive again. I often wonder why no doctor ever looked into her past history. Maybe my life would have been different. I really can’t blame her because an addiction is hard to overcome when it over takes your whole life.
Books bring life because many people didn’t realize how my life was at home. I had abundance of worthy goods, but I lacked the one thing I wanted the most. A mother’s love!
In 1962, An extraordinary, marvelous, patient person entered my life, who I would later love and marry. With this great person I gained a truly wonderful mother-in-law, who would fill my wildest aspiration as a mother. Suddenly my life took on a whole new meaning. Sadly she died shortly after my youngest turned a year old. They were poor with not much worldly goods, but they had much love to give and that was worth everything to me.
Today our worldly possessions are few, but we have love which is our greatest wealth. Although I no longer need to escape with a book from the real world, I still find reading a most enjoyable pastime, which my husband doesn’t understand. He’s not a reader!
Overall, reading books inspired and brought life to keep looking for a mother’s love, happiness and what I wanted for our future.
Ernest Hemingway said it best: “all good books are alike in that they are truer than if they really happen and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you; the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was.”
What does a book do for you? If you find value, please comment.