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Friday, May 18, 2012

I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.

This is why I don’t read.  I start a book, and I cannot put it down until its done, no matter what else I have to do.  I started reading this book at 5pm.  I read until it was done at 10:30.

I got some books from the library.  I browse the catalog online, and then they ship them from surrounding libraries and can just pick them up  from the desk.  When I’m there, I always check out the displays they have.  Frequently, the best books I have found are not ones I heard about from someone, but a book that caught my eye on display.

Today was no excecption.  There was a book I spotted and in looking at the description, it didn’t seem like the kind of book I would read.  It set it down and kept looking.

I kept going back to it though.  Multiple times.  Finally, I just took it with the thought that if I started reading it and hated it, I’d just read one of the other books I had.  Or, I had so many, maybe I’d never get to it and just return it.

As I was checking out, the woman remarked upon this particular book.  “The Kite Runner.  Oh, this is such a good book.  You’ll be sobbing.”

Huh?  True, I was attempting to get a crying book.  I haven’t cried in forever, but felt like I needed to cry since the hospital.  No matter what, I haven’t been able to.  Even the saddest movies I know (PS I Love You, My Sister’s Keeper) have been unable to make me shed a tear.  I feel – hard I guess.  I just wanted to cry.

So of course, I get home and crack open this book.  I was hooked instantly.  But, it wasn’t a crying book for me – the story.

Randomly though, there would be a line or a paragraph, that would spark something.  It didn’t have anything to do with the story, but everything to do with my life. It started in the very first chapter.

That was a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned about you can bury it.  Because the past claw’s its way out.

It kept happening, over and over.  Little things, would set me off.  Don’t get me wrong – it felt so good to finally cry, but it was also this moment of clarity.  I had to figure out what it was that was making me cry.  I feel like I was forced to pay attention, not just to cry, but to figure out what I was crying about.  I think therapy made me think I need to do that…

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