The Books by My Bed

A personal essay, an ode

A quick survey of our small two bedroom apartment gives any visitor a heads up on who lives here.

Someone likes guitars. Note the six instruments hanging on the wall outlined by KISS posters. And someone else likes books. Note the seven shelves spread throughout the living room and bedroom. This is not counting the four shelves in the room that is obviously occupied by an adorable child, as indicated by the giant pink Barbie castle that sits in the center of the room.

Books and piles of books are how I live my life. They are how I make my day. They are how I decorate and know my home.

I used to organize my shelves in terms of subject matter, and within that, alphabetical order. Four moves with some degree of homelessness in between have cured me of this very organized habit. I have purged too many books, lost too many books, and some boxes are still in storage.

Now I have general subject areas, generally. I know where things are. I know how to find what I am looking for.

I have some books on Kindle, e-book, audible, but they are a last resort for me. If I am somewhere and bored. If I am in bed with my daughter or fiance and the lights are out. If a book was on sale or free in e-book and I don’t have enough saved up for the hardcopy yet. I prefer the physical, actual, and yes, real book over something in a phone, on a screen.

Books are what hold me together. Books are conversations I want to have with people, with myself.

Our bed is currently on the floor. We have been waiting to get furniture, but life keeps happening, as it does. Next to our floor bed in the corner are my piles of nighttime just-in-case books.

They look beautiful to me. I like having them near. I like putting my glasses on top of them at night. I like being able to look at them before I fall asleep. And of course, when I have the time, I like being able to read them in bed, morning or night.

They are currently, as follows:

True Refuge, by Tara Brach Instant Winner, by Carrie Fountain Women Who Run With the Wolves, by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes The Holy Bible KJV I have had since I was ten years old Field Notes from a Catastrophe, by Elizabeth Kolbert The Hard Facts of the Grimms’ Fairy Tales, by Maria Tatar The Original Folk and Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm, translated by Jack Zipes Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion, by Jack Zipes Blowout, by Denise Duhamel The Uninhabitable Earth: Life After Warming, by David Wallace-Wells

My espresso brown bookshelves were the first official furniture we purchased together for our new apartment, after moving out of a one-room studio. We are waiting for a dresser, a bed frame, and for me, most importantly, two bedside tables. Nightstands. My only requirement is that they be able to hold a nice, comforting, beautiful stack or two of my cherished books.

Jenny Justice is a mom, Sociology instructor, and writer. You can follow her on Medium and at Jenny Justice, Writer. She has been recognized as a Top Writer on Medium in Poetry, Parenting, Reading, Education, Racism, and Climate Change, so far.