It's funny how the little things are what make it click.
I went to the library today.
It's changed.
on the outside and inside some.
But it's funny.
The shelves moved a little.
But I could still find it.
The book.  That one book.
Long ago I'd taken it from my brother, wanting to read something
of a more challenging level.
Now, as I walk through the library, I hear it calling to me.
Tugging at old strings in my heart.
My fingers slide across its binding, and I take it off the shelf.
Still the same.
Down to the scent.
My fingers trace along the page tips, not opening it.
Taken back.
Late nights, staying up to read those words.
My soul and mind hungry for more.
Elves, vikings, trolls.
It was all there.
Every single mythical creature my yougn mind had dreamt of.
It was the first book I'd read with romance.
Every single one before had adolescent romances.
The occasional hug and kiss.
But this.
This one removed a leash around my neck.
it spoke of passion, of pure unadulterated love making.
The words were so fluently put in place.
They left mysteries to my young mind.
Mysteries I would later learn as I went through puberty.
I remember thinking that whatever this book spoke of must have been amazing.
......
I set the book down on the end table.
I've only managed to read the first page.
Already, I feel things in my chest un-knotting.
I feel the glow of remembered innocence.
I remember my want for a lover.
Not for the sex, but for those magical feelings that only two lovers can share.
My eyes start to water.
When had I become so obsessed with the pleasures of the body?
When had I let it become sex, when it used to be the tasting of another's desires?
I trace along the lines of my memories.
I'd made poor choices.
chosen partners without the thirst for the romance.
and I'd just been left with the rush of the moment.
I trace my fingers along the smooth cover, and let my mind wander back to younger
days.
and in a way... it was like getting my virginity handed back to me.
Oh, the knowledge was there.  As were the perverted thoughts, and the physical lack of virginity.
But it rekindled.
A fire, I'd let die out in high-school drama.
A hunger, I'd long ignored and left un-satiated.
I'd been called many things.
Shy, sweet, nerdy, bithcy, man-whorish, slutty, handsome, sexy, cute, ugly, fugly...
but they suddenly seemed to wash off me.
No pride, no guilt.
My conscience had come flying back in on an umbrella with spikes.
I smiled softly, my fingers traced along the book.  and I opened to page one.
I hear the beginning is the best place to start after all.
I go back back to the page I'd read, and start over.
I read page one again, and let the book's magic work over me again.
I can tell.
It's going to be a good week.