The Library in my head

Once upon a time I owned a vast library, especially for someone as nomadic as I have been.  When it moved, it occupied over 40 sturdy filing boxes.  In my last two houses, it had a room of its own. It covered a lot of subjects.  I had a collection of used school books, books on hard science (mostly astronomy, cosmology and bleeding edge physics) books on soft sciences (linguistics, psychology, sexuality and relationships), books on metaphysics, and books on the occult and speculative sciences, books on Wicca and other New Age subjects, books on Christianity, Judaism, and books that explored the links between the above.  And then there was the fiction side: primarily mass market SF and Fantasy that filled 6 full bookshelves.  It was an amazing thing, and I was justifiably proud of it.

But things began to change in 2007.  We decided to try and sell the house to get out from under a potentially difficult financial situation.  That meant packing up all the books and getting rid of much of the furniture that was in the upstairs of the house in order for it to show better.  The house did not sell, but we never reclaimed the upstairs.  Eventually it was rented to some friends. 

When I realized I was not going to be able to put the library back on display, I decided to start divesting of myself of the books.  First to go was about 60% of the SF/Fantasy paperbacks to a UU church book sale.  When I moved to NY in 2009, I left about half of the books behind.  When I moved into my little apartment in January 2011, I left more than half of the books that remained behind.  The last of the books was given away before I went into my current exile (ok, a little dramatic, but it feels that way sometime) here to middle of nowhere Illinois.)

There has been more than a few times in the last few weeks that I have wished for a book that I used to own, but I am discovering that these books still exist.. in my head.  I am also finding that now that the ideas that were stored in those books have been released from their bindings, they are recombining into new forms.

I miss my books almost as much as I miss my dogs.  I will have a dog or two  in my life again, though different ones from Kitsu and Ranger.   The books however, still exist in my life, if only in memory...