Thankfulness: books

Tonight I’m really grateful for books. There’s something about crawling in bed in a full sweatsuit under three blankets against a pile of pillows with a paperback that feels like Christmas break. Maybe it’s that carefree feeling that there’s no school tomorrow and knowing you can stay up until 3 a.m. reading if you want to. Or maybe it’s the comfort of getting lost in another world or just the coziness of bed and books. Any way, I’m feeling like that tonight.

We had our first book club meeting of my “new” Pittsburgh book club this week. And, to be honest, it was the first time I’ve felt like a book club was really going to work. We are a collection of women of different ages, different backgrounds, with a common thread throughout us, but not just a group of girlfriends looking for wine and chitchat on a Thursday night. It’s an ambitious group of ladies who were offended at the thought of someone not finishing the book. And I love them for that. And I’m just so excited. Not only for the books we’re going to read together, but for learning their stories and telling my own stories to a new group of women who share the same love for literature as me.

I truly believe that most of what I know about the world, I’ve learned through books. And not just non-fiction or text books, but fictional stories about human struggle and people different than myself. I’ve learned about patience and forgiveness and sorrow in ways that I’ve never experienced in my own life. I’ve learned about cultures and tolerance and humanity and inclusion.

And it’s not just the stories we read in books. I’m thankful for the stories my friends have told me about their heartbreaks and joys, for they’ve made me a stronger woman. I’m thankful for the stories I’ve learned from my family, for they’ve made me appreciate my heritage and want to uphold the ideals of those who came before us. I’m thankful for the stories I’ve learned from my “little sister,” whose live is vastly different than mine, for she’s taught me how two people can live so close yet in such different communities. I’m thankful for the stories of strangers, for they’ve forced me to face realities, believe in opportunity and be a more giving person.

We are our stories, and we should proudly share the moments and memories that make up our lives. And we should read books of other people’s stories to expand our own experience. And, tonight, I’m so thankful to live in a literate society and for the opportunity to read these stories in the comfort of my own bed.

(I feel a post coming up with a recap of books I’ve read in the last few months. As soon as our month of thankfulness is over.)

To telling our stories,

Lia