I told myself earlier in the week that I wasn’t going to be able to go. I simply had too many things going on and couldn’t spare the time. I hadn’t really thought about it again. Or so I thought.

Then, early on Saturday morning, soon after I’d started writing, I glanced at my watch. 6:05 am.

Oh, the Early Bird Sale has started.

The thought instantly popped into my head. Clearly, I hadn’t fully submerged it.

What’s an Early Bird Sale you ask? Well, in a nutshell, it’s earlier opening hours at local stores with a generous discount and encouragement to wear your PJs as you shop. At my local bookstore it was 25% off all books from 6-9 am. Every year I choose a book for each family member for Christmas. The Early Bird Sale is the kickoff of my holiday shopping and one of my favorite parts of the holiday season. But this year I’d already decided not to go. I had a very busy weekend ahead with lots of plans and obligations.

Still…

My pen hovered.

I wavered.

Usually I spend time in advance of the sale reading reviews, pondering my options and enjoying creating a list. This year I cobbled together some ideas from a few trusted sources and was out the door half an hour after deciding to go. Actually, I’m not sure I ever fully decided. I just suddenly found myself still in my PJs, list in hand, getting out of my car in the parking lot, and feeling vaguely guilty and very excited.

I wandered into the store out of the chilly, dark morning and was greeted with light, warmth and the hubbub of bright voices and happy conversation. I immediately relaxed. This was where I wanted to be.

I started with new releases. The newest Stephen King was out, but I knew at least two of my family had already bought and read it. I kept an eye out for the titles I’d scribbled down. I looked at Staff Picks, picked up books, read blurbs, considered my options. As I wandered, I listened in to others’ conversations, chimed in a few times, touched the covers of “old friends” affectionately, and breathed in the intoxicating aroma of new books.

After I’d been there a little while, the owner approached me, “Can I help you find something? Oh! I see you have a list! What are you looking for?”

I then spent a delightful 20-30 minutes with her. I’d ask if she had a certain book and she’d say “Yes” or “No”. If they had it, she’d show me where to find it. But, really the fun started with the “No’s”, and especially the “No, but’s…”

“No, but have you read this one?”
or
“No, but I do have one that sounds similar…”
or
“No, but have you read that author’s last book?”

Or she’d tell me she hadn’t heard of a book I was looking for and ask me to tell her about it. I would and then my description would connect to other books, other authors, other sections of the store.

Last Friday I posted a prose and poem combo describing kids at a recent recess delighting in the flurry of autumn leaves falling in the breeze. They had whirled and twirled, stretching their hands out over their heads, trying to catch the leaves as they fell. They had been completely lost in the wonder of it all.

I felt a lot like that in the bookstore on Saturday morning. Immersed in book talk. Giddy with books and the potential of them all. Loving thinking about my family and the interests and nuances of each of them. Busy stretching out, trying to “catch” the perfect book choice and lost in the wonder of all those words. All those books.

When I left the store an hour or so later, I had a large bag brimming with books. I know I was smiling, and I’m pretty sure my face was glowing just like the kids’ faces at recess that day.