I woke this morning thinking about a friend who died three years ago of cancer of the brain. She spent her last months reading books, packing her painfully swollen head with words that she would soon be taking into silence. From under her turban her blue eyes shone. I thought it peculiar that she would use up what little time she had left on learning, that she didn’t want to be outside in the last of her seasons, an autumn and a winter, the cheerful yellow leaves, the immaculate snow, but I had forgotten— how could I have forgotten?— how much pleasure there is in being lost to time, alone with a book.
~ Ted Kooser, November. The Wheeling Year: A Poet’s Field Book
Photograph Source: Danielle Nelson
..and how much comfort..
and oh, so much comfort.
3:09 am Friend? Forgot to roll your clocks back?
Yup…makes me wonder just how many reminders I need. There’s a nap in my future.
Long nap…
yes, in a book your life can be anything and there is no limit to where you can go. very peaceful and freeing –
Yes, to all of that Beth.
Beautiful♥
Thank you as always for your wonderful posts of light and do take good care, too 🙂
Thanks B. You too…
The escape and the freedom to be found within the pages of a good book. There’s just nothing like it…
Perfect way to go.
to me a book is just visiting without the addition of having to communicate–it is still staying in the loop when you are too tired to give
Nicely stated LouAnn….I agree.
Reading is such a great escape.
So sad and perfect at the same time.
That’s it Darlene, you’ve captured it.
Wow. Moved.
I am a cancer survivor, so it’s sad to hear stories of those who are not as fortunate. On the other hand, what a wonderful way to fill your life, no matter how much of it is left. I myself hope to write until my fingers fall off, filling in the quiet time with reading. So much to do! Thanks for all your sharing.
Heartwarming comment from front to back. Thanks for sharing Claudia.