It took a chance encounter with an exotically beautiful
young woman named Azure to remind me of the influence and lure of books.
We spoke briefly at a party where, when asked, I mentioned
I was a writer. Her intelligent and memorably beautiful face lit up her, until
then, somewhat somber brown eyes.
“Have you read Ahab’s
Wife?” she asked.
“No, do you recommend it?” I said, wondering what a human
rights attorney and I would have in literary common since my pastime reading leaned
toward thriller, adventure, mystical, or crime novels.
“It was a book my mother and I both read that told the rather
colorful life and adventures of a young woman. The story initiated many discussions
about subjects we might never have
spoken of,” she said.
“Oh, really,” I said, using my best non sequitur.
“I still remember sitting beside my mom and listening
to her reveal feelings about her life that I treasure to this day.”
“That was a rare gift that the book offered.”
“It is one of my fondest memories with her.”
I remembered then that our hostess had spoken of a close friend
who’d recently died and that her daughter would be attending the party.