Boxed In

They were stacked carefully in corners and closets waiting. Waiting for someone to release them from their duct taped cardboard prisons. To be set upright on empty shelves where they can sit patiently and breathe the air of possibility.

I did open one box sitting in my living room; one of the many boxes stacked in my spare room waiting for me to make a decision. My only intention was to take out the top book and read, only to give interest and shape to today. Something to do while I wait for outside activities to resume. with questionable optimism about the success of such a venture past today. Actually, I really needed to get the box out of the way as my feline friend, Jet, was curious about the loose edges of tape holding it together. 

To my surprise and my own curiosity, two books opened up possibility and space in my heart. The first - All We Hold a Dear by Kathryn Lynn Davis -  is a work of romantic fiction, alternating between the 19th and 20th centuries and an old favourite of mine that takes me into the wilds of Scotland from the comfort of my own home. The second, a gift from a friend in 1989, Today’s Gift, is a daily reading book full of wisdom and common sense. This reminder of an old daily reading practice also took me on a trip. A trip down memory lane.

Since I was a very little girl, when on sleep overs at my grandparents in my hometown, breakfast was always prefaced by my grandpa's daily reading from the Bible and another slim booklet, the name escapes me at this writing. I suppose it set the time for not just our meal, but more my grandparent’s day. I did let go of that practice as soon as breakfast started, but I’ve remembered the calmness of those moments. Two decades later, I was re-introduced to a similar more secular practice at a time when I was in need of that structure and order. Exactly what I need for these boxed in pandemic days.

“Books are the quietest and most constant of  friends; 

they are the most accessible and wisest and

of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.”

~ Charles W. Eliot