Filet mignon with mushrooms and vegetables. Wikimedia Commons. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.
“Eureka!” says Mom the other day, coming home from the library (they’re doing “curbside” pick-ups these days.)
I have no idea why Mom says this. But she says it a lot. Especially when she’s lugging another truck load of “books” home from The Book Place.
The Book Place
Me, I’m not crazy about The Book Place. Ever since Mom pointed out the “guide dogs and service animals only” sign. What am I, chopped Salisbury steak with extra gravy? Tri-tip roast? A nice, thick burger sizzling merrily on the outdoor grill?
Wait. What was I saying?
Oh yeah. “Eureka” and The Book Place.
Omaha Steaks Bacon-Wrapped Filet Mignon. Wikimedia Commons. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.
“See what we have here?” Mom oohs and ahhs, pulling out one of those big square, reading thingies from a “book bag” big enough to choke a Brontosaurus. “Letters on pages,” she explains. “This is a book.” She fans the pages.
Can I Eat? Classics
I sniff said pages. Can I eat it? Something tells me no. As in, BIG N-O.
“David Copperfield!” Mom announces. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn! Jane Eyre! Classics!”
I’m still sniffing. Am I supposed to be impressed?
“Wait! There’s more!” Mom crows, excavating deeper into the Bronto bag. She unearths more reading thingies. Like Pride and Prejudice. Raisin in the Sun. The Black Stallion Returns. Thunder Rolling the Mountains. Born Free: A Lioness of Two Worlds.
Meanwhile, I’m beginning to wonder about these reading thingies she calls “books.” They don’t have any buttons. Blinking lights. Bonus levels. App updates. In fact, books really don’t have any sounds at all. And not much smell, either. (Dust, maybe. Or something that’s been sitting on a shelf since just after the discovery of fire.)
“Look,” crows Mom, cheerfully paging through something called Anchor in the Storm. You’d think she just discovered filet mignon, medium well.
“Finding a good book is like finding buried treasure!” Mom continues. “It’s like an adventure waiting to happen! Like biting into a nice, thick, juicy…”
I get the picture, okay? Salivating here royally.
Filet mignon with asparagus spears. Wikimedia Commons. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.
She also tells me these reading thingies – “books” – can:
- Take you on travels only you can imagine.
- Guide you through forests thick with facts.
- Discover whole galaxies dripping with starry fiction.
- Introduce you to lifelong friends.
- Keep you awake all night until The End.
Says Mom, “A book can be a friend if you just want to be by yourself in the highest status-update-free mountain.” Plus, the only “storage space” that runs out in a book is what’s in your own head.
Photo by Kasumi Loffler from Pexels.
Batteries Not Required
Also, a good book doesn’t run on batteries. Never needs a recharge. Or a power cord. Doesn’t have an off button. And you don’t need to remember a password to get inside.
A book won’t make you sick because it doesn’t catch viruses.
A book won’t unfriend you.
Well. Why is a good book like a good filet mignon? Because both taste great!
At the end of the day, you can put down a book guilt-free. It won’t mind. And you won’t be missing out. Because, says Mom, a book will always be there, waiting for you to come back. Pick up where you left off. Like an old friend welcoming you home. Whether you’re a “service animal” or not.
Mom may be on to something. I just hope she hurries up with that steak.
For more of some of our “filet mignon” reading, check out Fine Wine Fridays. Ta!
What do you enjoy or appreciate most about reading and books?
Wedding table photo by Kasumi Loffler from Pexels