estimated reading time: 3 mins.
My late uncle had their shelves filled with a diverse collection of books, ranging from fiction, politics, self-help and DIYs. Whenever we visit them I would check them out, scan the titles, and choose one to read for the duration of our holiday stay.
I never finished them. In the back of my mind I knew I could always pick up where I left off next year, once I came back.
Today on my first night at their house for an annual holiday visit, I looked for the same book I’ve been eyeing every year. And to my disbelief, it was gone. My aunt and I rummaged through the cabinets, shelves and packed boxes in the house.
Later on, we retired to the idea that she probably included that in her donation to the church or had given it away to somebody else as ‘there are just too many books laying around,’ she said.
‘If only I told her I loved that book, surely she would have given it to me to take home.’
‘But then’, my mind retorted, ‘the limited time I had the book in my hands is what makes it special.’
I remember Marvin ingraining this idea one day at Walmart when I was about to grab a box of pancake mix. “We wouldn’t have anything to crave about going to Cracker Barrel, don’t you think? If we can have pancakes anytime of the day, pancake houses would be less exciting.”
Right. It’s the same regard when we prefer to drive to a nearby coffee shop and stay there to chat instead of being our own baristas at home. And so much so when we choose to buy pancakes from pancake houses instead of making our own.
To not over-familiarize and just let ourselves be excited about our favorite things is a blissful way of life.
One ice-blended vanilla from CBTL, a box of Meiji’s YanYan, or a coffee date has always been a dose of comfort. I can imagine them saving my gloomiest of days. They were my favorites worth keeping, by not always consuming.
There are just some things in life that I liked so much that I refuse to bring myself to get tired of them one day. The missing book is slowly becoming like that, I look forward on flipping its pages every year.
Anyway, I can’t even remember the title of that book. I just go by the colors of the cover whenever I hunt it down the shelves and prop it open every year. I tried a bunch of keywords but with no luck, Google had a hard time finding me that. Hm… I’m probably going to miss it for good.
PS. My aunt told me to take any book I wanted and I immediately grabbed one, and another classic from Dale Carnegie. I didn’t shy away this time. I feel no guilt of taking two books after losing one. Haha!
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