After adding book number 413 (yes, 413...) to my to-read list, the last activity in a short satisfying string, I feel completely settled. I need nothing else.
The feeling reminds me of my junior year as an undergraduate. My roommate and I, as pedestrians, had been struck by a car and received modest settlements. I call them modest now, but at the time they seemed very large, large enough for my roommate to purchase a used car. I however had no interest in a used (or new) car. The only things I wanted at the time were some fresh white t-shirts, a Walkman, and a good bicycle.
Today my lunch hour has consisted of what seems to me a similar simplicity. I've eaten two slices of sesame wheat bread with a smashed avocado and a single ak-mak cracker topped with my new favorite cheese, knit a few rows with a soft cotton yarn, and listened to an author interview streamed from the local radio station's archives.
The author mentioned a book of poetry that had been meaningful to her during difficult times in her life. This book of poetry, The Dream of a Common Language by Adrienne Rich, is my #413.
New Favorite Cheese