First & Last
As I wrap up my last night in the shop, I can’t help but feel so content.
When I can’t decide whether to get a book or not, I always read the first line, and if I feel compelled enough to keep reading, then I know it’s the one. I know that this is probably not an innovative idea in choosing books, but it’s mine, so I’m happy to leave it in The Open Book.
This place has been a fulfillment of a dream that I’ve had since childhood, and it’s truly an honor to have had the opportunity to be in this town, see the sights, sell the books, and, most of all, meet the people.
I know that I’ll be back one day (because this is not just a place you leave behind forever), but I’ll miss the stillness of the quiet book shop when the summer sun has (finally) set. I’ll miss the smell of the books, and all the light switches. I’ll miss the joyful gasps of little girls who proudly show their parents the poetry they’ve written. I’ll miss counting foreign change. I’ll miss the little bell that rings when people enter, and how it always made confetti in my heart. I’ll miss customers asking about books that the store has, even though I’ve only been here for a day, and I have no clue (yet). I’ll miss the key that unlocks the door. The hidden notes from past owners. The map on the wall. The hello’s. The thank you’s. The smiles when they enter and leave.
I will miss this dream.
As this chapter closes, I’m happy and content, and I’m filled with joy at the anticipation for what’s next.
If you’re reading this, and you’ve previously owned The Open Book, thank you for the beauty you’ve contributed and left behind.
If you’re reading this, and you’re dreaming of owning The Open Book, keep dreaming/hoping/praying/wishing because your time will come, and it will be worth the wait!
If you’re reading this, and you’re from this beautiful town, thank you for all that you do. Wigtown may be small, but it is making a mark on every visitor who comes here, and it creates a ripple that follows us home. Thank you.
And finally, let me finish by quoting the author who, since my childhood, taught me to first love reading:
“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing-- to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from-- my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.”
-Till We Have Faces, C.S. Lewis
--Nicole
