The Final Chapter

I am this close to finishing the book I am reading. I've been reading it for a really. long. time. I've even had to restart it a couple of times. I could attribute my slow reading to the fact I am working 45 hours a week, plus teaching 4 - 5 group fitness classes a week, all the while finding time to spend with my boyfriend, friends, and family. I also choose to read my book when I am either 1. riding the bike at the gym, or 2. about to go to sleep. Let's be honest, neither one of those situations provide for easy reading, as one is causing heavy breathing, while the other quickly leads to deep breathing. I could also blame it on the content of the book, which, let's just say, doesn't keep the pages turning at a very fast pace.

But those are all pretty lame excuses.

I am not too picky when it comes to books. I love them all. I can find something good about most of them, and if not good, at least interesting or thought-provoking. I love sentences that don't really have anything to do with the storyline but make you stop, re-read it, wonder why it's there, and then admire the author for calling attention to such an idea and being eloquent enough to put the thought down in words. When I start a book, my life is consumed by it for the life of the book. So when I finish, it's like a part of my life dies. Those characters are no longer my neighbors, the setting is no longer my neighborhood.

And so I near the end of another book and face another "death," so to speak. And I contemplate the idea that I read so slowly because I don't want to give up that life quite yet. It's a paradox, you see, because getting to the ending will be so satisfying, yet so mournful. I will have to rush out to the bookstore to find another escape, much like a dog owner who has lost his life-long friend must rush to find a nearly identical replacement.

By the way, the book is East of Eden - a testament of good vs. evil.