Commonly held wisdom asserts that the phrase “too many books” is indeed a condition impossible to achieve. Instead, “too few shelves” is the more routine state held by far too many of our world.
My mother-in-law reached that deplorable condition of “too few shelves,” so on vacation, my family sought to aid her in her plight. And aid we did.
And by we, I mostly mean my oldest son, but still, I helped.
A little.
Step one: Clear out space in a crammed former bedroom turned storeroom. I am thankful I was unavailable to provide assistance at this step, as a mandatory convention held my unflagging attention.
(Perhaps it flagged… I would much rather have been helping clear out the bedroom/storeroom.)
But by the time my convention activities drew to a conclusion, space had been cleared. Now, it was time to construct a library for my mother-in-law!
And construct we did. We sweated. Perhaps some blue language was used. But at long last, her shelves were constructed, and she began to move her precious books to their new lodgings.
I sighed as I gazed upon the shiny spines. I longed to bury myself in their paragraphs. Chapters called to me.
Alas. It was time to go home.
Until next time when more shelves are needed. Because while she has enough for now, we know that books are incredibly fertile creatures that seem to multiply beyond reason.
And we love them all the more for it.
I pray your books always outnumber your shelves, giving you cause to construct more. And may your domicile never burst from too many pages.
Jonathon Mast: Author 