I picked up an old friend on Amazon last night, for a dollar.
It doesn’t seem that a series of books which have made such an impact on my life, which have journeyed with me, have been key element of the background of my life only cost me a dollar.
I have them in print, of course. Not all the same, and certainly not a boxed set. I have them in different sizes and publishing dates. With pages falling out, covers worn and torn. There are stains on some of the pages, and I try not to think of what those stains might be. At least one of the books has suffered some minor water damage from when I dropped it in the bathtub. I learned the careful craft of drying out paperback novels from an accidental baptism when I was younger.
I have little left from my childhood. A combination of some traumatic moves, a need to purge for those moves, ill calculated decisions and a mother who tended to throw out things of mine when she became angry.
I have the odd thing, saved from such fates by my tendency in my early years to leave things in random places. Other things judged precious were stored with friends for safekeeping and they have been returned to me.
Those books live on a top shelf of my bookcase, carefully stacked together. Missing volumes have been replaced, often from second hand bookstores. I sometimes think that I should give those volumes to another young girl, and then I look at them, worn and disreputable, the stories old and perhaps no longer relevant to the younger set, and I hold on to them a bit longer.
Last night, electronically I got the whole set. All of the Anne of Green Gables books. In one format that can always come with me, wherever I am.
I read Anne of Green Gables last night. Always a quick reader, I find when I go back to a book so many times I can simply soar through it.
2 hours with a dear friend. After a long day.
I am always a bit sorry for people who don’t really read. I am always a bit sad that they shall never know the blessing of a kindred spirit, a whole host of the race that knows Joseph and familiar places, simply waiting for you to come back to them, between the covers of a book.
Oh Anne, you and I first met when I was about 7. And such a friend you have been for 27 years.