Books, coffee and milk tea

It’s been raining hard the whole day.
There is something about a rainy day that brings to my mind books, and hot drinks in pretty cups, and watching (again) classic love stories I have already seen. I do not know why it is so, it just is. I see/hear rain and I just want to spend the whole day in bed with my books and the sound of little feet padding around, knowing too that any other room in our home my husband would happen to be in, chances are, he would have before him good coffee or a pot of tea.

Other than home I would love to get stuck in a bookstore on a rainy day. If I do not find any title interesting enough (which I really doubt for I always find something) I know I will be just as happy getting lost in the maze of pens and crayons and crisp sheets of paper to use them on.

Yes, I would so love to have the luxury of curling up with just one good book after the other for days on end and especially on a rainy day, but like I said, that is a luxury. Life moves and so must I. The stories can wait; I must get on with my own. But still I buy books without ceasing; there is a section among the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that line one wall on the second floor of our home that I reserve solely for books that I have bought but have not read yet.

Why always books on a rainy day, I sometimes wonder. Why not cooking soup or baking fat pies… I don’t know, not that I should or that it matters. I just know there is no better time to start reading a book than when the rains come. There is something sedate about a pale day and the pitter-patter of drops, the rhythmic murmur of water hitting the roof and under that roof, me curled up on the couch or in bed with titles that I chose because in the bookstore where I found them they jumped off the shelves and spoke to me.

Personally, that is how I always find the ones I end up loving the most. That is how M.F.K. Fisher and Robert James Waller, Peter Mayle and Elizabeth Gilbert and Alexandra Stoddard ended up on my bookshelf. I hardly read book reviews and when I enter the bookstore I make it a point to choose only on the basis of what my heart tells me; knowing it sometimes in the simple tenderness and/or wit of the title, the play of words when I randomly open a page, the dreaminess or nostalgia that a photograph on the book cover stirs up in me (never mind if I am not familiar with the author, much less the story) and conversely, too, a liking for more work from an author that I already know. Buying a book does not always have to be an intelligent choice; it can very simply be a random act of pleasure — one that allows you to get lost in another person’s story, if only for one quiet afternoon or one very cold, rainy night.

Let me share with you some titles that you can add to your own collection. If you are a romantic at heart and are a sucker for old-fashioned love letters like me then be sure to get a copy of I Love You, Ronnie (The Letters of Ronald Reagan to Nancy Reagan). This book will make you fall in love with love, and allow you to journey through the mind of a man in love. Ronald Reagan had such a beautiful way with words and he wrote the first lady of his heart all these little notes and letters from the time their love was evergreen and all the way through their whole marriage, or at least for as long as he could before Alzheimer’s found its way into his life.


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