I’ve thought about what I want to do with my life, and a few things keep reverberating to the surface: teaching, education, books, writing. They blossom here, in my everyday life, but yesterday, I had a new thought. What about a bookstore?
Up till now, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. A good college friend dreamed of opening a coffee shop someday. Her dream came true earlier this year. I always applauded her on. A coffee shop sounded exciting and artsy and melancholy and hauntingly beautiful and musty and familiar and friendly. But I hadn’t planned on opening a coffee shop. It just wasn’t quite in my style, I guess you could say. I like music; I like art; I like coffee, but the draw wasn’t there for me. I wasn’t passionately enthralled with it–like she was.
Then I started setting up an Ebay account to sell books, and I realized, “This is something I could do every day.”
When I was in Pennsylvania for two weeks, I visited the Cupboard bookstore with my mom and fell in love with the antiqueness and the colors. There was this cat, black and white, that padded around the rows and rows of bookshelves. I think I found her sitting on a stack of books at one point. She came up, rubbed around me as I crouched by the animal bookshelf, practically mesmerized by the bindings and smells.
I just wanted to stay.
I couldn’t then, but maybe someday, I can start my own.
A library, a bookstore and a coffee shop. Or teashop. With a cat. 🙂