In the last 20 years, time has gotten scarce, life has gotten crazy and weird, and kind of a lot to handle sometimes. I don't have homework anymore, but now I'm self employed so that basically means that my entire day is a long homework assignment that was due yesterday. I don't have to clean my room, now I have an entire house to clean and I actually like doing it. I stress out about things like life insurance and retirement... and what the right work/ home life balance is, which is extra alarming because I work at home and all that gets kind of tangled together. I've lost my yellow Nancy Drew books. I don't even have a book shelve to rearrange because we have iPads and kindles, and amazon.com is the only library I go to now.... which makes browsing for books less magical and more "I should add some toilet paper to my cart before I forget".
But a few years ago I discovered audio books, and they have saved my life from the mundane of long drives and bad tv shows. I listen while I cook, I listen while I drive, I listen in waiting rooms. My taste in books have changed considerably from Nancy Drew, but I do still love a good mystery. My favorite book read last year was A Man Called Ove. It was one of the first as I was getting back into the throes of reading again. And it knocked me on my ass. As in, its been almost a year since I read the book and I still don't know what I can say about it except it's a wonderfully tender story about loneliness, and despair and hope. The novel is funny, heartbreaking, poignant, and it had the most perfect and satisfying ending, to which I ugly sobbed for about an hour. I've read (I mean heard?) quite a few books since then, and all I know is the books that I love the most are the ones that make me cry. Like a lot. Like bawling over my simmering spaghetti sauce, or ugly crying so hard driving down the road that I think I should probably pull over because the roads are getting blurry and fellow drivers are probably thinking that I just found out my long lost Aunt Lorene died. The catharsis is real, guys.
I think the lesson learned here, is that I like stories that transport me to another place and another life. Ones where I find so many similarities to my own, that it's comforting to know my wants and struggles are shared. And stories of people so different that me, that I can understand the vastness of our world and the people in it. And those stories just happen to make me ugly cry.
Let's sob it out, together, guys.