The Beauty of a Story

Book sales. The premier event of bookworms. Books covered in a thick layer of dust, titles obscure, are given a chance at life. People leave the comfort of tea and warmth to venture forth in search of books.

Book sales are always cold. Fingers and toes tingle from frost as you search for the perfect book. The leaves on the trees drift down onto the shelves outside. The books outside are not to lure you out, but to promise better within. The books no one remembers shiver outside, waiting for someone with good memory, or a taste for adventure, to come along and peruse.

The guardians of the book sale greet you at the door. The ladies peer over spectacles and announce in firm tones. “Bag sale today. Do you need a bag?” If you smile, say good morning, and follow all directions, they will let you see the books. If not, a wrinkled hand will grasp your elbow and escort you out the door. Skirts swishing as they dispose of the unwanted interloper.

At last, the books. All in rows like good little children, bright faces newly washed. They wait patiently to be seen, looked over, and perhaps, perhaps! Placed in a bag. A new life awaits them! Whether it be a classroom, a shelf, or a pile on the floor. I believe books prefer the life in a classroom, read to bits, accidentally stepped on, and covers ripped off. More so than the life on a pristine shelf, where they are never read but occasionally dusted. Or so I tell myself as I pick up books for my students with big hearts, expanding minds, and grubby hands.

I greet old friends, those with covers and those with faces. People you only see at book sales smile and greet you. We know each other by our books. The woman who fills her bag to bursting with romance novels, the man who finds the thickest fantasy novels he can find, the mother desperate for anything to fill her children’s voracious appetites. All are welcomed and remembered.

My favorite part of a book sale, besides the books, is the gossips huddled together at the end of shelves. In groups of two or three, they update each other on their lives, their children’s lives, their in-laws lives, and everyone in between. They swap slightly scandalous stories, and give their opinions on everything from health to child rearing. Somehow, they seem to believe that if your back is turned, you can’t hear them. They have nothing to do with me and mine, so I love to listen.

At last, books and gossip acquired, I take my place in line. A woman glances over my stack suspiciously, making sure I have not cheated them out of an extra dollar. Satisfied, she gives the price. With a sigh of relief I pay for my treasures and haul them home. Cozy moments with a book await. I shall put on the kettle.

Shaina Merrick