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My Grandmother's Books
My grandmother loves reading books. She loves imagining every story she reads to full detail and she loves entering into every new adventure she can. She loves the feeling of the pages of a new book and the smell of the old ones. She loves reading the different funny and weird names of the authors. She loves the fact that when she was 14 she started collecting books of all shapes and sizes. Pink books with soft covers and drawings in every page, little pocket books and dictionaries that you can carry everywhere and gigantic books of hard covers that don’t contain a title at the front, which I assume, are the oldest ones. She loved that she had so many books her father promised her that she would have her own library one day in the house, and so she did. She loves that, when she turned 18, her father gave her a room of the house with every wall painted in a soft pink color and it had bookshelves everywhere. She loves that she filled that library within months. She loves that she had to make even bigger bookshelves to fill the library with more books and she loves that she had to buy a stool to reach the books that were in the highest corners of the library room. “I fell in love for the first time with that room.” My grandmother used to say. I’ve gotten to know my grandmother through her library and the books she wants me to read with her. She has made me fall in love with books and stories as well. I love that she spends all of her time in the library room and I can always find her there. I love that she sits in her favorite chair to read a book, then she goes to eat and after an hour or so she returns to her library to read another. I love that every time I use a vocabulary word incorrectly she goes upstairs to the library room to bring back her beloved Larousse Dictionary and teach me the proper way to use it. I love that every Sunday I go visit her we read a completely different book than the one we read the last time before. I love that she has teached me the wonders you can find within books of little or long pages. And finally I love that, to her and to me, friendships can end, money comes and goes and life itself is temporary but books will always be infinite.
