November 28, Sunday after Thanksgiving.
Allocated drive time to airport: 50 minutes.
Accomplished in 40 minutes.
Allocated time for luggage drop-off/security/frisking: Two hours.
Accomplished in 20 minutes.
Free time before boarding: 1 hour, 40 minutes.
Eat lunch: 1 hour.
Time to kill: 40 minutes.
My daughter and I meandered to Borders Books.
Touch, touch, touch. Smile, fondle, get a tear in my eye. I love books. I think I actually caressed a couple of volumes and had to resist kissing Edward's face on the cover of New Moon by Stephenie Meyer!
I perused every category from children's, bios, sci-fi to romance and best sellers.
It was pure joy.
"See this book?" I asked my 10 year-old. "The author was my teacher in college." I turned the book over and waved at Alice Sebold's picture.
"The Lovely Bones?" she asks. "Sounds like a good book, Mom," her voice sprinkled with sarcasm.
I grabbed a David Sedaris book as if I were embracing the actual author.
"I love him!" I shrieked.
"You're married," she reminded me.
"Okay," I corrected myself. "I love his writing. My favorite book is called Naked. There's one short story about him in a nude trailer park and . . ." I stopped talking as she ran off to get away from me and hopefully to peruse her own books.
I gripped The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver as if I were strangling the African green mamba that had me crying for days. Some books are too emotional to revisit and that's one of them.
The cover of The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery taunted me. "I will pick you up again and I will finish you." I admonished the book and myself by shaking a finger at it.
"Who are you talking to, Mom?" My daughter darted into my aisle. She continued without waiting for my answer. "Whatever you do, don't go into aisle 4. Stay away. Just stay away." She put her arms out in an attempt to block any movement.
I nodded my head knowingly. "It's alright. I already blew kisses at Edward Cullen's picture on the 2011 Twilight Calender. You think I should buy it?" She scurried away faster than Edward could fly Bella up a mountain.
I stood in front of the Robert Ludlum, Dan Brown, etc. aisle. I, once again, affirmed to myself, that I will pick up a thriller/mystery book soon, very soon.
My husband and son took a break from the NFL game on TV and joined us.
"We need to board the plane soon," my husband said.
"Give me a minute. Come with me," I signalled to my son. "Remember in school you read six paragraphs about the Crusades. Well, there's a lot more to them than what you read." I handed him a two-pound book, The Crusades, by Thomas Asbridge.
My son reached for Badasses, by John Madden.
"Can I get this?" he pleaded.
I pondered. The title was inappropriate, it cost $25.00, but my son might actually read it.
After having a delightful time meandering around the store (with and without my daughter) my son chose a book in 37 seconds. We bought it and headed for our gate.
Post Script: It will be sad when book stores go by the way of the drive-in movies. I hope we all have fond memories of one, whether it be a Barnes and Noble, a Shakespeare Books, or a Tattered Cover.
