The Dreams We Keep - EDITING

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Life happened so fast; first my Daddy was here, and then he was gone. I regret not loving him more, not hugging him and kissing his scratchy stubbled cheeks more. I would give anything to curl up beside him on the sofa and watch silly game shows after dinner, or in the kitchen, side-by-side, as he makes his world-famous waffles and I skillfully snuck more chocolate chips into the batter without him knowing.

When I was still small enough, my Daddy would throw me up on his shoulders and walk around proudly, exclaiming that I was the princess of the world and nothing could touch us! But unfortunately, death not only touched us, but severed my heart and our close bond. Losing my Daddy was unlike any pain that I have felt before. He was my best friend and I could do no wrong in his eyes. As his only child, I truly was a princess to him, and he was my king. When I joined the orchestra, he would attend every concert, sitting in the front row, offering me a standing ovation after my solo performances and bringing me beautiful bouquets of sunflowers (my favorite) as congratulations for another job well done. He was my biggest cheerleader and told me over and over again just how special I was to him and how proud he was of me. He would exclaim after every performance that I would be the next Yo Yo Ma and that I could achieve anything if I worked hard enough for it. I had never felt so loved and supported in my life until that love was suddenly ripped away from me and I was left in a bleak and cruel world without my number one fan.

My mom and I did not share the same bond that my Daddy and I did, but that's not to say that she and I didn't get along well. We agreed on most things, like one can never have too much ice cream, or too many books, or (most importantly) too much coffee. Before life served us a slice of bitter pie with a sprinkle of unfairness, my mom always attended my concerts alongside my Daddy, she showered me with loving remarks and always provided for me in a way that made me feel seen and understood. My Daddy may have inspired my sense of adventure, an eye for precision and fixing things, but my mom inspired my passion for indulgence (particularly sweets), proverbial sass, and love of reading. In fact, she is the reason I was hired at the Bookstore.

Her close friend, Sandy, inherited the store from her father and transformed it from its original dusty decrepit state into a bookworm's paradise. One of her first changes was installing a glossy wooden bartop on the front glass wall which houses an espresso machine, a kettle and an assortment of coffees, teas, syrups, and creamers. Sandy thankfully knew the important relationship caffeine and books have together, and shares my sentiment that one should not be had without the other. Beyond the bartop sits the antique metal cash register on a small desk that appears just as old and has been in Sandy's family since the late 1800's. Four rows of large bookshelves expand beyond the desk, taking up the length of the store and stand nearly as tall as the dark finished wood paneled ceiling. The industrious bookshelves are organized by color (perhaps Sandy has had one too many cups of coffee and far too much time on her hands to organize thousands of books by color). Thankfully, the locals are privy - and generally understanding - to Sandy's eccentricities, but watching any out-of-town visitors try to find their way through the yellow and blue bindings to locate the newest James Patterson book is rather amusing and makes for a fun Saturday afternoon. I once overheard Sandy telling a disgruntled shopper that if it's meant to be, the book will find you; just like a great adventure novel, it's all about the quest.

The back wall of the store is made completely of exposed brick with a large driftwood mantle overlooking a fireplace that has been replaced with an electric unit and makes for a cozy reading nook on blistering cold days. Just in front of the fireplace sits a mustard yellow tufted back velvet sofa that has seen better days, yet compliments the mix of antique furniture and scattered Persian rugs riddled about the shop perfectly. The sofa is my favorite spot in the store, because it offers a prime location for natural light to come in through the large paned windows that are set on the adjacent walls. There are additional reading nooks tucked in both back corners of the store where two sets of leather wingback chairs sit coupled with oak end tables that exhibit an endless supply of coffee ring stains and stacks of abandoned books.