Do you ever think about
The books you left behind?
Every time you moved– and then–

The very first move was an adventure to something greater. Our first real house, with a garage and and attic and my own room. The move after that, a grander adventure away from home.

When I was younger, I had the privilege and the ability to bring with me all I had: every game, every glass bottle, every book. Perhaps I didn’t have too much, or it was easier to let some things go, or I just didn’t notice and when I did, it was inconsequential. The second move found me still young but old enough to choose what to leave behind –a book here, some bottles there… Later in life, there were moves necessitating the need for me to sell some things: gas money for the drive, monetary compensation for what I couldn’t bring with me.

I have moved a total of 8 times, if I am counting correctly. But the one move I think of often is bittersweet, but I did something a little different.

I volunteered at a library for something to do. I was shaken out of a job and aimless. We cataloged books in Excel, recycled others, and dusted the shelves for a few hours each day. Not many people came in. Bored high schoolers, mostly. Locals would come and donate more books and peruse the shelves, occasionally having their names written down in a notebook as they checked out things.

I eventually received an eviction notice; I couldn’t be aimless forever. So I was going back home, again. I had to downsize, again. But not to a pawn shop or bookstore or a GameStop.

While packing I took stock of everything: the furniture, knicknacks, flowers, books… more books. One pile held the ones I wanted to keep, and another of books I wouldn’t mind losing. And this time, there was a new stack: some I couldn’t bear to part with, but I did nonetheless. The last two stacks were to be donated to the library.

I touched each book, recalling fond memories of my discovery. How epic the 3-in-1 paperback felt, and how it left me thoughtful long after I finished. Another I read in high school and the excitement I had when its sequel released. A small book of poems that carried me through college.

They were dear to me, but I found them in a library once. If I left them there, if someone needed them they will be there.

I left books on the library selves.

–Once, it pained you
But you grew used to letting go, so
You gave them up for someone else to read.