If you haven’t yet made a book, you should try it. It’s a fun, rewarding activity. I suppose, in a way, journals qualify. After all, the covers are there, but the pages are blank. It’s up to the writer to fill in those blanks with words. Children love making books. In kindergarten, we made dinosaur books, books about “me”, all sorts of books.
Book covers can be anything–cereal boxes, construction paper, scrap pieces of cloth. Scrapbooks come in here–lots of lovely pictures and a few captions or sentences about each one. Many scrapbooks are heirlooms, real pieces of art.
I’ve made books for my grandchildren–some were day to day books of their activities or a month by month book. They are mementoes they can keep and look back on in later years.
When I grow up, I’d like to write a best-seller. Oh yes, that goal is still out there–tantalizing, alluring, unreachable as of yet, but hey! One can keep trying.
Books are friends as we go through life, helping us through the bad times, always there, dependable and waiting for us to have the time to pick one up and read. Whether we make them or someone else writes them, they are an important part of living.
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