I miss my books.
I don't know when we will settle into our own permanent home but I made Boa promise that my books must have their own space to breathe. That's imperative.
Left home to live on my own 5 years ago. I was living in a 24 square meter space but I managed to cram my books in by placing them on durable, plastic boxes which I stacked beside my bed. Served as my bedside table as well.
After that, I've lived in a dorm, moved back home, gotten pregnant and hitched (in that order, if I may add), moved into my MIL's home during pregnancy, and then moved back home during Wolf's first and a half years of life.
I'm now back living to my MIL's house but during that exhausting sojourn, that back and forth rally of nomadic living, I posited my books at my old room. And that's where my babies have been holed up ever since. They're gathering dust. Pages waiting to be flipped and letters aching to be read. Poor things.
I miss them. But someday.