I recently tried, for the first time, to read Pride and Prejudice. After eighty pages, I gave up. My friend Sarah, who lent me the book on request, called it one of her “comfort books,” and I fully expected to find my place in the story. Perhaps it’s not my time yet, so let’s just say I hope to try again some day.
Two books have begun to stitch me up inside. The change feels subtle but real.
Two people dear to me, my sister Holly and my friend Ellen, sent me these two books in the mail a couple months ago, both for very different reasons. I have learned through Annie to accept whatever comes to teach me, from wherever it comes.