ON BOOKS ~ Marky Mark...

Wanda @ A Season To Read commented on my bookmark that appeared in a photo from my recent reading by candlelight post.  She thought it was quite lovely and wanted to know all about it.  I had never really given much thought to my bookmark, but as I sent her an e-mail telling this one's story, I found that it is really quite deserving of more attention.

This particular bookmark's journey is unknown to me.  It says Made In Italy so it is possible that my mother bought it for me while vacationing there.  I do remember she brought me back a shot glass from the Vatican (none with the Pope on them it seems) - but I don't remember her bringing me this bookmark.  So more likely, she just picked it up for me in an everyday bookstore somewhere along the way.  I've had it for a long time though.

It is genuine leather, with the top smooth and stamped with gold designs while the reverse is soft and textured.  I find that I roll it around my fingers distractedly while I read.  I play with the fringed ends, and my cats do too.  But it has survived my unintentional attempts at destruction.  It fits nicely in a hardcover, and the overhang bends out of the way just fine when marking my page in a paperback.

I imagine that the leather has absorbed all of those stories that it has been pressed between over the years.  It has probably gotten frustrated being left in-between rather boring passages for an extended period of time, or for being made to wait all day to find out what happens on the next page of that cliff hanger.  It knows my penchant for mixing it up - bouncing randomly from one genre to the next.  It has been impressed by my foray into Tolstoy and stymied by my dabbles with V.C. Andrews, likely growing tired of my endless hunger for memoirs and longing for childhood favorites.  But it never interrupts, complains or causes any distractions.  It just takes it all in as I feed my habit.  My willing accomplice.

It sat for a while all alone, buried underneath a stack of papers and notebooks, while I tried out a book thong bookmark that a kind blogger made and gave to me.  But it got worn out and was too long for my paperback selections.  I looked high and low for my leather bookmark and panicked that it was missing.  When I eventually found it forgotten in that stack of papers I was delighted.  I placed the bookmark quickly amongst the pages of my current read where it belonged - but I wonder if it was annoyed to be dumped into the story mid-way through?

Together again with me and the pages it does its reliable duty.  And hopefully, it gets a kick out of Chelsea Handler as much as I do - because I feel a humor binge coming on.