Same Book, Different Outlook

Age 12

I saw the book for the first time in the bookstore's fiction section. Despite knowing I should not judge a book by its cover, the book's cover is exactly what reeled me in like a fish to a worm. The title and author's name were in a thin yet bold font with various blues, pinks, and reds as the background. I read the book's synopsis, which helped me confirm that I wanted it. I begged my mother to buy it for me; she pulled out her credit card.

Once we got home, I immediately rushed to my room and shut the door. After kicking off my shoes, I got comfortable on my bed and opened the book. I immediately fell in love with the plot and characters; it almost excuses the book's slow beginning. I became more enthralled with every word read, every page turned, and every pretty little part.

A few days went by; I finished the book cover to cover. Upon closing the book for the last time, I felt a sense of wonder, completeness, and renewal. I had read many chapter books before, but this one was different. This book unlocked my love for literature and changed my outlook on life forever.

Age 18

One day, you're making memories, collecting souvenirs, and being young and free. The next, you're packing all those things up to start a new chapter of your life. The crazy part is how it can all fit in a few cardboard boxes. It almost diminishes how eventful your life has been. I felt this overwhelming and odd feeling until I found the book that opened my eyes some years ago. Due to how busy and fast life currently was, I had to fight the urge to sit down and re-read it right then and there. Instead, I packed it away in my bookbag to read it later.

After settling into college life, I finally got a chance to re-read the book. With classes and whatnot, I couldn't finish it as fast as I did the first time. Nevertheless, I read the book from beginning to end, though I rolled my eyes remembering how slow the beginning was. A feeling of familiarity took over as I revisited the plot and characters. Furthermore, I realized how complex the book was by closely analyzing every aspect. It had dawned on me that certain parts had hidden meanings and weren't just there as mere plot devices.

Within a little over a month, I was able to finish the book during a hectic start to my first college semester. I had finished the book before, but this go-round was unlike the first time. Seeing the book through my young adult eyes was inspiring, thrilling, and thought-provoking. I better understood the book, like it had taught me something I hadn't known before.

Age 22

In the blink of an eye, I graduated college and started working part-time as a barista while I looked for full-time work with a higher salary. Until then, I made coffee, smoothies, and occasional breakfast sandwiches. Since it was a part-time job and I mainly worked mornings, I got a fair amount of free time during the afternoons and evenings. While many people my age went out clubbing, I preferred a quiet night at home, which involved listening to music, cooking delicious meals with Mom, and reading. I still had the book my mother bought me a decade ago; it was still in good shape despite the number of years that had passed.

I decided to re-read it after an extended period of contemplating. A part of me thought, "It's the same book; what could've possibly changed?" Then, I figured, "Let's find out." After a long morning shift, I returned to my apartment, showered, changed into comfy clothes, made myself coffee, put on music, and re-read my book in my big chair. Luckily, I didn't have to work the next day. So, I read the book from the early afternoon to the late evening.

Before I knew it, I had finished the book as my mother knocked on the door. I answered the door and saw two brown bags covering my mother's face. I grabbed one from her arms and another off the floor beside her feet. We sat the bags on the kitchen counter; Mom noticed the book on the coffee table by my big chair.

"Isn't that the book I bought you?" Mom asked, squinting her eyes to get a better look. "From when you were twelve?"

"It is," I said, nodding my head. I unpacked the brown bags and disposed of them in my trash can.

"You're reading it again?"

"I just finished it." Mom looked at the book again and then at me. We ate spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread that night for dinner. I had a bottle of red wine in the freezer, which Mom and I drank. While we ate, Mom kept glancing at the book. I waited for her to say something, and eventually she did.

"How many times have you read that book?" Mom asked curiously.

"Only three times," I answered. I dug my fork into my salad and stuck it in my mouth. "I read it when I was 12 when you bought it, 18 when I started college, and I just finished reading it when you arrived."

"You've read it that many times?" I nodded.

"I discovered something new about it this time around."

"How is that possible? The book didn't change."

"That's true, but I did." Mom looked at the book again, comprehending my words. Earlier, it had dawned on me that between the book and me, the book was constant while I evolved.

"Do you always learn something new?" Mom wondered. "Each time you read the book?"

"I do," I said, nodding my head.

"Okay." We continued to eat dinner quietly with Chet Baker as background noise. After we finished, Mom placed the dishes in the sink and left the apartment after we said goodbye. I washed the dishes and rewarded myself with another glass of wine. I sat back in my big chair and stared at the stars. I looked at the book and smiled to myself. I placed the book back on my bookshelf after finishing my wine.

"Until next time," I said to the book before going to my bedroom.