I developed a strange habit as a VERY young child. I learned to read quite young. At 6 my Dad would buy me one comic book a week. Of course I would read it immediately, then…there was nothing new to read.
So, I read the same book again, and again. After many weeks I had many books to re-read. First the excitement of the new, then the comfort of the familiar. I developed favorites which would be read more often..friends so to speak. So, me and my boxes of comics, a familiar routine. Thus it continued all through my school years. I would read a book I liked, and in my mind I would “schedule” it to be read again at some future point.
I was a voracious reader, tearing through books at a lighting pace. Many of them strange, books that rarely ever got checked out of the school library: Mika Waltari’ s “The Egyptian” read many times over. Michener’ s “Hawaii” And the classics too: “The Count of Monte Cristo” a dozen times. “Moby Dick” 4 times at least. I liked long books, and experienced a let down..a sad feeling when I finished them. “But I always can read them again” I thought. I have the time to revisit my friends.
Now, as I lay here pecking away I realize that I have made too many friends to be able to revisit them all again. Especially with the development of this blasted Social Media, which is addictive and sucks away huge portions of my time. However, I have some time now before I sleep to go back and visit. No more posts or games of hearts for me tonight…I think I will go visit an old friend of mine….