My entire life, I have hated to think of the theme of stories, novels and poems that I’ve read. I like to think that there is no specific reason, and that works can’t always be put into a category. This is why I roll my eyes at themes we have to talk about in school, especially ones like “don’t judge a book by its cover” and “curiosity killed the cat.” I guess it just bugs me that things can be categorized, no matter what. But, now I understand.
I judged a book. I looked at the cover, didn’t like what I saw, then shoved it aside. I often referred to that book as “annoying” or “not as cute as everyone thinks.” I didn’t even bother with digging deeper by reading the description of the book on the back cover or by cracking the binding and sampling a page or two. I looked, I judged, I set it down. This is what I do with most things. There’s one thing that I changed my mind on. And now I regret what I thought before.
I saw the book on the shelf, dusted it off, then looked at it again. I smiled to myself as I opened it up and took a look inside. I saw that this book I shoved aside before is absolutely beautiful and kicked myself for not thinking so before. It makes me smile and laugh and made this past week of my life one of the most cheerful ones I have experienced in awhile. I’m still only in the first chapter, but I am planning on reading more and more in the future. I can’t wait to see what else I find.