If I Were a Book

I was daydreaming the other day, and wondering what I would be like if I were a book, so I imagined it all out in my Notebook, and sketched a visual to go along.

If I were a book, I'd be a volume of familiar essays--my favorite genre to write. My Dewey Decimal number would be somewhere in the 814's. (The hundreds place stands for Literature, the tens  denotes it as American, the ones places it in the essay genre.) I'd be bound in durable leather, grey-blue in color with my title embossed in gold on a sturdy spine. On the front cover, there'd be some fitting symbol, either an open book, or a swallow in flight (seeing as that's always been my favorite image.) Sewn in to the spine would be a soft satin ribbon, for I'd want my readers to treat me well by not dog-earring my pages, yet I wouldn't be so mean as to not provide a way in which to track their journey with me.  Of course, a well-loved book is going to show a little wear, and I hope I'd be well-loved, so to have the corners of my cover beginning to round and no longer brand-new sharp,would be a sign of a happy life. 
 I hope that I would be found by readers that would love and treasure me, and that in some way I'd be able to provide that type of friendship that only a good book can provide. I hope that I'd be an instrument of Naming in my readers lives; that as that twenty-somethings girl sat propped up against her bank of pillows late at night with me in hand, the truth in my words would speak to her heart, helping her become more the person her Creator intended to be. I hope that the young student bent over his desk late one finals-week night would find a refreshing beauty in my pages despite the pages of analysis and criticism he's written; that he'd not put me away after finals, but come back to read and enjoy again and again. 

If I were a book, I'd want to be the classic that people think of fondly; authored by the great Storyteller, I want my story to be shelved among those that stand the test of time.

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