
This is the first real bookshelf that I’ve had to call my own in life, one that’s not shared with family members or put together using bookends on a wide windowsill in a dorm room or a carrel at the library. All of those bookshelves have a special place in my heart, but this is the first one that I bought to put in my own space, to be used solely by me and become a little window into my heart and soul. My globe bookends, a gift from my sister, are half purple, faded by the sun from the time they spent on my dorm room windowsill.
My favorite CDs and movies serve as bookends on the top shelf, accompanied by concert mementos that are placed strategically in hopes that my cat won’t be able to knock them over. My favorite books on this particular shelf are probably The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova, East by Edith Pattou, and a very well-loved copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (handed down from my parents). I haven’t been able to fill this bookshelf up as much as I’d like yet, but I know that soon it will be far too small and my “bookshelf” will once again encompass unconventional and improvised spaces, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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