Once upon a time, I was an avid reader, devouring a good book within a couple of days before going onto the next. I honestly can’t remember the last time I picked up a piece of fiction until recently. I lost myself within the pages of Water for Elephants this past week and finished it three days later, a triumphant feat.
I solicited book recommendations from Facebook friends to continue my newfound and voracious appetite while I’m on couch rest. A friend dropped off a collection of her favorites not long after I posted my passionate plea.
“This may very well be one of the oddest assortment of books,” she confessed, “but they are my loves”.
I was giddy with excitement upon receipt of this beautifully wrapped bundle, and honored that she would share her prized collection with yours truly. I immediately opened up the cover of Wally Lamb’s “Couldn’t Keep it to Myself“, a collection of stories written by women of York Correctional Institution who “describe in their own words how they were imprisoned by abuse, rejection and their own self-destructive impulses long before they entered the criminal justice system, powerful stories of hope and healing, told by writers who have left victimhood behind.”
I’m two stories down and I’m smitten.
I’m taking advantage of the opportunity to dive into this exciting literary feast and feeling the words on my tongue, because I know that once sweet Hannah arrives, my reading list will change significantly.
And I can hardly wait!