Time to Read

Who doesn’t wish they had more time to read? At this moment I have that sort of time, and I have been frittering it away, but that is over. Instead of beating myself up for my lack of energy and not getting more done, I am going to take time to read. I have stacks of books in three places in my bedroom. I’ve even started several of them. There are the books I took out of the library knowing I’d have time on my hands, as well as a few new books I bought, and one that was a gift.

I have mainly been going back and forth between two books that are feeding my soul and restoring me; reigniting my dormant love of food. A great friend sent me Ruth Reichl’s new book, My Kitchen Year, and I am savoring every story and every recipe. I am also enjoying Best Food Writing of 2015, and fighting my jealousy that my friend Sarah Gray has a (wonderful) piece in it. These are books that comfort as well as inspire me. I can taste every gumbo described by Keith Pandolfi , and sit with Ruth Reichl as she contemplates her next steps while making a chicken fricassee.

My Kitchen Year reminds me of a book a read a few years ago Slow Love by Domenique Browning. Both books by accomplished women who suddenly find their livelihoods disappear. I can relate as I had a career yanked out from under me five years ago, and thinking about it still smarts, but that is just at the surface, go deeper and both books delve into the richness of experience and the true meaning of pleasure I find I share with them. They remind me that my current situation (at any given moment) doesn’t define me, though of course it shapes me.

I may not be ready to take on big braises or roasts, but I can devour the stories of others doing just that. Right now vicarious pleasure is what’s on my menu, and these and the other books that crowd my dresser and night table are bringing me exactly that. Having time to read is a luxury, and I know the clock is running on how much more time I’ll have for one of my favorite pastimes. I am relieved to surrender to my comfy chair and piles of books. I am happy to give up my guilt about not being productive enough. I am ready to embrace my remaining time at home as a gift. I have time not only to read, but to write, and spend time with friends and family. What took me so long?