Barnes in her Noble

I went to the bookstore earlier this week to get Book 3 of Fablehaven for Sebastian. It's the new series that he's really into since he finished the Series of Unfortunate Events 13-ology. What would you call a series that long, anyway? Hmmmm. I think that'll have to suffice for the moment until I get a smart person to tell me the "real" name for it.

I got the book after a long time exploring the kids section with Muna and paid for it along with a book for Ethan, Muna, and myself, and was on my way out the door when I remembered I needed a gift for my nephew's birthday. What kid doesn't want a book for his birthday, right? That's why I rock as an Aunt. So I went back to customer service because the book I was looking for wasn't on the shelf, and I asked the lady behind the counter for help. Then I noticed that the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid book was available for pre-order, so I interrupted my previous question about needing help and reworded it to tell her I'd like to pre-order said book. My point is coming. 

She then asked me for my email address and I began to spell out my name because whenever I tell people my email address they're just like, can you please spell that for me, so I was saving her some time by doing it in the first place. She was not happy about that. She was older, and I really, truly think she thought I was spelling it out slowly for her because of that. Which I wasn't, I do it for everyone.

So I looked at her, and a million thoughts flooded my mind about age and assumptions and I spit out the remaining part of my email address. I noticed her skin and how incredibly wrinkled it was. I especially noticed it not on her face, as one might suspect, but on her forearms where it was sagging and paper thin. I scanned her as she typed. I looked at her graying hair and makeup-less face. I noticed her slumped posture and the way she seemed frazzled for not being able to find the book I was looking for on her computer. I listened to her voice, and it surprised me that her voice sounded so full of life, still so youthful. I wondered who she was and I wondered why I even cared. After all, I had a 17-month old fireball refusing water and Goldfish crackers and would much rather wander the aisles of books that keep her from her mother's view. I had more important things to do than to speculate about the life of the elderly bookstore lady, didn't I? 

Didn't I?

She came back and explained that the book should have been on the shelf but for some reason isn't there anymore. Maybe it was miscounted, she said. She reserved the book for me and I thanked her and walked away with Miss Clementine following closely behind.

I couldn't help but think as I walked to my car that someday that will be me. I will be that lady that is old and gray and wrinkled. I may work at a bookstore too, since I love books so much that would make sense, yes. But I would be old. At least I hope I will be. Part of me is scared to death to give up the things of youth, but I am no James Dean and seriously, pardon the pun. I want to experience all of this life, the young and pretty, old and not as pretty. 

So I was thinking that maybe someday I will meet a younger version of myself and she may wonder about me. What was I like in my youth? What kind of life did I live.....did I love? Was it wild and passionate? What did I  look like......was I pretty? Did my chin always have twin brothers? And I will think, yes......

I loved. 

Yes! 

I was pretty, and more often than not, I didn't think so. 

Shame.

But no......on the extra chins. They came later. But that's ok because I really, really had an intense affair with chocolate and just what the heck did I expect would happen after eating all those Toblerones for YEARS on end? 

I knew exactly what would happen. And knowing I only had this one life.....

I didn't care.