I have not always loved old books in the same way that I love new books. But lately, due to budget considerations, I have acquired the habit of checking out the used books for sale section at our library, have taken to poking around in used bookstores, and find myself going to goodwill stores just to see if anyone has donated any interesting books.
Maybe it is because I myself am getting older, but my opinion now is that there is something endearing about a well-used book. It has a history that new books do not yet have, especially if previous readers have left their marks in the way of notes in the margins or highlighted lines. I am sorry to say that this used book had no such markings. It is in pristine condition, save for the intimate and concerned note on the flyleaf. I was slightly embarassed to come across this note, to know that B obviously did not read the book L gave him.
I bought the book, and brought it home. I plan to read it. I plan to highlight passages that speak to me. And I will continue to wonder if L is still praying for B, or if B might one day find the peace and love that L spoke of.