long, wonderfully winding days

Even by nightfall, it was incredibly warm, it was balmy even. If upper 30s can be considered balmy or incredibly warm and they could, to us. We had experienced days with the variety of cold air that assaults you the minute you walk out the door. Every bit of you fighting the urge to turn back and close the door behind you. This particular Saturday, everyone was outside. We were pleased when we arrived at a favored wandering spot, the only populated area was the dog park.

He and I wandered through the warm air, walking further on the trails than we had in a long time. Snow boots, no need for gloves and once the heat from our moving bodies caught up with us, we probably wouldn’t have needed our jackets. This walk filled the afternoon with the promise of long meandering walks and laughter filled sunlit picnics. The air felt nice, the few marks of potential wildlife enthralled us. We walked on.

I don’t last long out in the world on an empty stomach, a little piece of knowledge that could have saved us all from some intense moments in my early to mid-twenties. I didn’t want to go home just yet, the day had been so nice for us, I just needed something in my stomach and fast. Nearby, exists one of the most comforting restaurants on the outskirts of town. The Pine Cone, a truck-stop, larger than life bakery, comfort food stop. They make really good chili, among many other things. Over coffee, bowls of chili and a side order of fries, we chatted the afternoon away. Enjoying each others company, no projects, no chores, no looming to do lists, just enjoying one another.

We left and ran all over town in pursuit of a new handbag for me. I exaggerate, it felt like all over town. Really, we visited a few stores. This isn’t something either one of us are really that fond of. The amount of people out and about, just buying things was somewhat alarming to me. It’s not an activity I participate in often, it is an activity I find odd when there really are so many other things out there to be doing. But, to each their own. We did go to one store that I did find something I wanted.

At Half-Price books hours just melt away, dripping down shelves filled with titles and authors. I experienced so many incredible feelings at the book store that day. I’d walk down the aisle, slowly, looking at the many spines. Some new, some old, cracked and warn, some made of vinyl, printed paper, or canvas. Gasping, I would recognize a title, recognize an author and recall a time in my life. Going back in time, thinking of all of the friends I made and the adventures that I had in between the pages, as well as in my own life. There it was, a title I longed for, a title I had not read. These titles would take me to new places and in the future, allow me to go back in time at the sight of it.

I remembered reading his works as a youngster, the earliest recollection I have of reading his books was when I was in the seventh grade. Experiencing the mystery and magic of a summer night, storm so close the heat lighting strikes distant prairies surrounding you, the smell of soil just before it rains. All of those mysteries you create with your friends about the cemetery outside of town, the abandoned farmhouse, the old woman only seen peering through heavy hanging drapes. These pages contained the feelings all of those childlike amusements conjure. Pure magic. Everything was filled with magic when I was a twelve year old girl. This particular book I saw before me contained three novels by the great Ray Bradbury. Three novels I had never read. The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, and The Golden Apples Of The Sun. It was one of those Barnes & Nobel collections that were released about five years back. A nice maroon colored hardcover with gold, mustard and white graphics embossed on the covers and the spine. The edges of the pages were gilded, beautiful words placed on paper so smooth it feels weightless even with the gravity of Bradbury’s poetic prose. Excited, I glean the pages in sheer delight and appreciation of Bradbury's writing, I remember the many feelings I had reading this author’s works as a child.

I’ll be enjoying it.