Even Books

Not on every Sunday, but on some Sunday's, when I have that depressed feeling about starting a new week, I'll clean my room. I'll wake up, get dressed, make an omelet, then return to my room, close the door, and not come out until about lunchtime to make a Cup Noodles. Then I return to my room for more cleaning until about 2 o'clock. I go outside for some fresh air around 3, and by the time I return I'll realize I forgot to clean up something and go for that. And right before dinner is served, I put on some music, turn off my big light, click on my small lamp, and invite everyone who's in the house to come in and see. Now they aren't always as impressed as I am. To them, it's just another one of Audrey's unusually clean room's. But to me, it's the thing that will get me through the week. And I'm very proud of it.

Whenever I clean up my room, I'll uncover something new. A new surprise, a new treasure. May that be a pair of earrings from 3rd grade, a stuffed animal I thought I left in Israel, or maybe a picture of my mom and I from when I was 6. This time, it was a book. Well, not a book, but my entire book shelf. You see, I've lately come up with a new design for my room, moving my bed to where my desk is, and my desk to that lonely corner in my room that needs some company. Naturally I want to move my books to where my desk is going to be, it'll add a little life to the corner, a new story each time I sit down at my desk. But then I realized, of all the time's I have cleaned my room out, I've never moved my books. They've been hiding. Even though they were originally out in the open for everyone to see, for me, I just got so used to them being there, and then they kind of, well, blended into the wall. So when I moved all of my books to the other side of my room, I discovered about 6 different series that I thought had ended up in my family room. I discovered Candy Floss, Jacqueline Wilson, my favorite book from 5th grade. I discovered Duel, by David Grossman, a book I started last year that I now know was made for me, and that I must finish. And how about The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, by Mark Haddon? A book my mom read last year and absolutely loved, and wanted me to read. I guess I forgot I had all of these books. I betrayed them.

That's the thing though. You always have to remember: books, if you can believe it, are alive. Each character has it's own traits and feelings and friends and family just like you and me. And just like you and me, they don't want to be forgotten about. They don't want to blend into your wall, and for you to walk right by them, and for you to not know who they are. You have to say, "Hm, you look nice, I think I might want to read you!" And by saying that, you're asking them to be your friend, you're asking them to hang out. Everywhere you take them, is a new adventure for you to take together. You're dusting them off, you're shaking their hand you're patting there back, you're telling them it's going to be okay. You're being a good friend. And everyone needs a good friend.

Even books.