Small dreams of books

Everyone has dreams.  Big dreams, small dreams, some in between.

 

But I have dreams that are dead, destroyed.  Most of the big ones anyway.  Transition destroyed most of those.  Destroyed long ago.  But I still hold on to some small dreams.

 

One of the dreams that I had held on to for a long time was a dream of growing old with my wife by my side, surrounded by my books.  The books I picked up over my lifetime, most of which I've never read.  But I thought that in my dotage, I would have the time to read these books.  To sit back, relax, not have to worry, and just read.

Some of these boxes haven't been opened since I was thrown out in 2013.

Wife and I would travel occasionally, going to places that we’ve only dreamed about as well.  But my time, for the most part, could be spent reading those books.  Those books that I have acquired over a lifetime.

 

Well, really, it’s been a few years.  I determined that I will never be able to retire, as I will never have the money to do this, which means I will never be able to read these books. I still have them—boxes of them in storage, over 20 boxes full of books, most of which I have never read. And it looks like I never will.

Oh look- another stack of book boxes

So, what does one do when a small dream is broken?  What does one do with the books? Well, I could throw them all in the dumpster, but that would be an entire waste.  There’s no one who will buy them from me, not in that bulk, except for pennies on the dollar, if that.  So, what to do?

You know, I’ve had so many dreams smashed in my time.  Big dreams, middle dreams.  

 

But sometimes it’s the small dreams, when broken, that hurt the most.