The Number One Reason I Love Used Books

Which, consequently, also doubles as the number one reason I will never buy a Kindle. I can’t even tell you how much I sincerely hope that physical books (and the stories they tell by the people who pass them down) never stop existing.

This particular story goes like this:

I bought a book as a gift for my little sister. I didn’t notice the inscription written in handwriting that looks remarkably similar to our Aunt Julie’s before I transported said book home and opened the front cover to thumb through the first few pages.

The inscription reads:

Sharless,

When I was a little girl I fell in love with this wonderful story of Heidi. I dreamed of seeing the Alps for myself, as Heidi believed their beauty was magical! Many years after I read this story, I had the chance to travel to Switzerland to see the Alps for myself! Always believe that your dreams will come true.

Karen
2005

Merry Mélange

It was here, while waiting for my brother, that I started this story, although, of course, at the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books. But I knew a story had begun, perhaps long ago near the sound of water. And I sensed that ahead I would meet something that would never erode so there would be a sharp turn, deep circles, a deposit, and quietness.

-from A River Runs Through It → Read more...

Back Diving

I posted a picture of him for a silly Instagram-related game and found him waiting for me in my dreams, something which occurs so rarely it still explodes solidly-constructed dams inside me each time I see his face, mustached and smiling at mine just the way he always did, just the way I always remember him. As usual he didn’t say much, not anything I could hear or remember, but he was there and I knew it, and when I → Read more...

Hiking Into Green Valleys

I have words washed out to sea. Words ushered quietly from my lips to my fingertips, waiting patiently for the right tide, for the moon to bring my stories alive.

I have words being reviewed, words accepted and words rejected, and I’m clinging to my favorite lines, fighting for them, and it feels strange and new and exhilaratingly infuriating, this tug-of-war of wills and how the slightest bit of caving can make me feel like I’m flirting with abandoning the sanctity → Read more...

Rivers And Roads

[Alternately titled: Story, The Second: The Girl Who Moved To Washington State]

It began simply. A direct message on Twitter first, followed by texts; those texts, in turn, begat plans. With those plans came anxiety and apprehension – I didn’t know you, not your face or your voice or anything else, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to – but also something exciting, a strange and unexpected hope hovering quietly on the horizon. And then we met, conversed and laughed → Read more...