My Bookshelves

On the lazy afternoon, sitting on my comfortable balcony its hard to imagine fleeing for my life on a raft down the Mississippi River.

An odd situation to contemplate for sure, but sifting through the mountains of books on my shelves in a usually-failed attempt to discard some of them, I always imagine that scene in Huckleberry Finn where he boards the raft of his slave friend.

What a great story: little freckled impish boy in farmer’s overalls jumping on an adventure with a frightened and goodhearted runaway slave. Even knowing what happens, I suspend my disbelief and sit on pins and needles, terrified that they’ll be discovered.

I have a hard time remembering all the character’s names, but it was one of the stories from my childhood reading that profoundly impacted me. I guess I could attempt to analyze why, but I almost prefer just letting it linger in my memories and emotions.

That’s the reason I can never seem to get rid of it. I may not ever read it again, but I love knowing its there in the stacks waiting.

Pic by Weeping-Willow