I love the smell of real books. I think being in the library as a kid on Wednesday afternoons was one of my favourite moments in the week. Often my sister and I would get the maximum number of books allowed. As a teenager, I would sometimes read into deep in the night simply to finish a good book. I could never understand my mum, who would always read the last page of a book first. I didn’t read too much for fun in college since there was already so much reading to do, but now I’ve gotten back into reading. And I love it. More than ever.

This morning I went to the post box in town to pick a package. Finally! After weeks of waiting, it was here. Or it’s been here for a while and I just didn’t know. Either way, real paper. A book, a magazine, a post card. All filled with the amazing smell of paper. Words and pictures and quotes and inspiration. I love writing. I love words. I love books.

If there is one thing that this whole blogging journey has made me realise is that one of my love languages really is the written word. It’s powerful. It’s strong. It gives me space and air and an outlet for creativity. I wish I was better. A better writer. A better communicator. A better creator of words.

But I am what I am. I stand by that. I feel safe in writing words now. More so than I did when I started back in October. I am more connected with the words of my heart, even though some days I find it really hard to transfer them to an online page. A couple more months and then it will be over.

Can’t wait to see where the love for my smell of paper and words will take me next.