Dear reader,
We hope you can indulge us for a few minutes and allow us to write something more "blog-y" than our usual essays. You may wish to look around our site to read anything else, perhaps our previous essays or the ones we've curated from other writers. But if you're okay with reading something a bit more personal, please scroll down at your pleasure.
Our book collection recently got damaged by a water leak from one of our ceilings, which ironically, was being fixed while we're renovating our house. My sister and I spent the first night in a frenzy of cleaning and drying our room, and trying to salvage the pages of our books. We didn't sleep much that night and woke up early the next morning, painstakingly blowdrying each page (we find out later that this was not the best remedy for wet books.)
We didn't cry, for our books are much too wet and our tears would not make the situation any better but we were cheerless. To make matters worse, the process of leafing over our collection unearthed memories I have already forgotten. I was forced to confront the days I came of age--the time in my life when most of these books were collected. Trapped within the pages were makeshift bookmarks from coffee shop receipts, movie tickets, and photos with the old gang. Others had etched in them letters and dedications from friends I haven't spoken to in ages.
One particular note read:
"Happy 18th, Mef! This is the first book I've ever read. I love you!
❤, friend [X]."
Sadly, like the author of that note, I haven't seen the book she's given me in years. I wouldn't have remembered I had it if not for the incident. Fortunately, that copy of "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" barely had any damage. I can't say the same about my friendship with the giver, which may be beyond repair at this point.
One thing I learned about saving wet books is to not force to open any pages. If the page was too wet, prying it open would've just made things worse, and I think I did the right thing with my former friend too. Had I been more persistent, I could have made an enemy of her then. I prefer for us to be strangers instead.
While not forcing pages to open is the right thing to do, one should remember not to make the mistake of letting the book soak with water for too long. Doing so allows mold to grow. Mold spores can cause health problems from skin and eye irritation to respiratory problems and infections. The same goes for friendships. If the pain soaks for too long, one can't open anything without the risk of getting hurt.
Now comes the part when we have to decide what to do. It's easier to decide the fate of "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" which now safely resides on the bookshelf. As for me and friend X, I think it's time to let all of that go.
I'll remember us with much fondness. There are only a few people who can keep up with my musings and impassioned speeches. Fewer still are able to end things for the sake of their relationships. It must have been hard to cut ties with me (to inflate my ego a bit) but if that has made her life better, then I guess my ego can take a bit of bruising.
If only we can save friendships the way we save books. But people are more fragile than paper.
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