Going Home

I'm going home tomorrow. It does't matter where I go or how long I'm gone. I always get a little giddy about going home. To my husband and my dog and my own bed. I'll get to visit my son at the nursing home on Wednesday and hope he didn't notice I was gone. Home to my new bookstore.

Yup, I'm opening a bookstore just when many small bookstores are closing down. I live in Salmon country so the image of swimming upstream toward a goal is familiar. It's a small store, not quite four-hundred square feet but I'm going to fill it with books and hope that people will come and enjoy the space, the books, and the company.

There are boxes of books there waiting to be priced and shelved so my fun has already begun. You see, I am an addict. I'm so distracted by books that I forget what I'm doing in my own house when I pass a bookshelf and see a book I remember reading and enjoying or a book I intend to read soon. They look good on the shelf, feel good in my hands, even have their own inky, papery smell.

When I was about fourteen I sneaked a couple of Taylor Caldwell's books off my mom's shelf and read them at night after she had gone to sleep. They were historical romance, a little steamy for that era and absolutely wonderful. I gradutated to F. Scott Fitzgerald and Mark Twain in high school and in college I fell in love with Ain Rand.

I haven't read all of my books. Not even close. But I love finding them. Used, new, in stores, online. My current favorites are a few Scribner Classics for children illustrated by N.C. Wyeth. They are breathtaking.

I hope a few people of like mind find my store. Even if they don't, I'm going to have a great time with the books.