‘Handle With Care’
I read a lot of used books. I agree, the smell, the color and the crispy pages of a new book are a reminder of spring in December. But the stench of pages in an old book, they are like snowflakes from a winter that we’ll always remember. The little brown on the insides of pages, the stains of water and tea cups and the edges that have turned curly like leaves of a wilted plant, are a piece from the past. And above all, the To and From notes on the first page, the forgotten handmade bookmarks with foliage and a quote, the stars and highlights beside the fascinating passages and sometimes the little fold on the top corner because the whole page made them feel alive. These books carry more stories than the authors wrote.
‘Don’t Lose Your Mind, Lose Your Weight’ says “Dear J, this will help you achieve your goal”. I see a big star scribbled beside the exact line when Elizabeth whispers “Mr. Darcy” and it all slowly falls into place. As I flip through another book, a thick yellow bookmark drops. A dried stem with its delicate leaves are neatly pasted onto it. The flower that once must’ve topped it is no longer a part of the party. A book on ancient Indian crafts has a black faded sticker on its back cover. An entry ticket to a free show for September 2009. That rock band is now a heartthrob to millions. People read books, they take away parts of it, literally and metaphorically. But, more than that, they leave little parts of themselves in those books.
To pick up a piece of literature that has already been loved and caressed only to be discarded is brutal. They come with broken paperbacks covered in labels of ‘Handle With Care’. They ask for more attention. Their fragile hopes are up for an exhibition. They wish to be healed. With glues and tapes and paper and spaces they go on to enrich more lives. With all our hearts, we shower them with love and spend our time on them.
I wonder what beauty would thrive if we showered our wretched souls and bodies with such love. We’ll forever be someone’s bookmarks, tea stains, the foliage on their skins, the stars and highlights of countless lives. We’ll be a spring in the December of our lives.
