December is many things for me. For most of my twenty-four years of life, it has meant a break from school. It means an excuse to buy those little things that remind me of the people I love and an excuse to visit the bookstore an extra time or two on the pretense of purchasing gifts for others. And every year, when I finish classes, it means I take a little trip to my favorite bookstore and pick out something fun to read.
It’s a little out of my way, so I don’t get there too often and each visit is special. I don’t care much for driving and especially don’t care for driving in traffic; thus, winding my way through the Highlands and up Frankfort Avenue is a little bit of an adventure in testing my nerves. Thank goodness I don’t live in a bigger city. When I arrive and park just down the street, I always breathe a little sigh of relief and feel a slightly childish grin creep across my face: I’m here, and I’m not leaving without a new (used) book!
As soon as I enter, I tend to forget exactly which book I am looking for and get distracted by the shelves of fiction and poetry and everything else. On my visit last week, after I had gone to my very last class of the semester, I picked up at least ten or so books before I spotted The Tiger’s Wife on a shelf and remembered that I put it on my to-read list a year ago. I had just enough cash on hand for one title, so with a sigh of resignation, I only bought that one book. Thankfully, it’s been quite a good one.
Do you have any favorite places to find books? And do you also get lost in the shelves?
Until next Thursday, now that I have time to write again…