The Weathered Birdhouse

Chapter One

    Autumn is the season where the leaves change to a crimson color and the auburn beauty of fall arrives. The brisk air is felt with every breath you take, while drinking a pumpkin spice latte. This is a lot like the foundation of love. When you find a connection with someone that takes your breath away, while trying to drink in all the beauty of their words from a letter they wrote you and having the desire to meet them. This was my experience when I fell in love.

    My name is Travis Harris a twenty-two year old guy. I work as a stocker at Jane’s books the local bookstore here in Harbor Falls. Harbor Falls is the quant suburban town that seems to illuminate the fall and winter seasons. These are the seasons the town comes alive with tourists. I dream of being a writer one day as all my life that is how, I have communicated with others. I am mute from a car accident that severed my vocal cord when I was three years old. I communicate with others by writing down my questions or answers.

     I work with Jane Rogers the book store owner. She is a fifty year old lady with salt and pepper hair and a blessing in my eyes. Me and Jane both share a passion for reading. We also share a passion for writing that allows us to pen our imagination and feelings through words on paper. She has always since, I was a kid looked out for me, she got me into my obsession with writing. That is why when she offered me a job after high school I jumped at the opportunity. I work Monday through Friday stocking books on the shelves, I go down to the local coffee shop around 11 a.m. to get mine and Jane’s mid day pick me up coffee order as we call it.

        It was a brisk Monday morning and I made my way down to the Miracle House the local coffee shop down the street from the bookstore. As I walked in the front door, I got the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the sight of the russet 1940’s looking vibe in the shop. I saw Carol the barista and owner of the coffee shop. Carol is a thirty-three year old women with shorter cut brownish hair. She waved hi to me as I waved back at her. She said “the usual Travis black coffee with two creamers and a hot chocolate.” I nodded yes, she said “$6.88”. I gave her $8.00 dollars always tipping the $1.22 as, I usually do on every visit. Then I head back out the front door of the coffee shop.

      I always stop at the weathered birdhouse in the poplar tree in front of the coffee shop. The Birdhouse is made of wood with faded blue paint from the years of winter weather. The weathered birdhouse has been mounted in that poplar tree for as long as I can remember. I leave an anonymous letter tucked in the bottom right hand corner of the weathered birdhouse. I have always urned for a connection with someone that doesn’t mind writing back and forth as this is my primary form of communication. Being mute has its challenges of making friends or even having girlfriends.

    Then I head back to the bookstore down the street. I walked through the door always being blinded by the brightness of the gleaming ceiling lights and the aroma of that new book smell. I got back seeing Jane waiting at the counter and handed the coffee to her. She said “drink up we got to rearrange the non- fiction shelf as Jane likes to keep the author’s in alphabetical order. I work stocking and rearranging the author’s on the shelves till 5 p.m. Then I call it a day and head home to my apartment for the night. I am a bit of an introvert as I get home to make dinner, read a little and write a new letter to stick in the corner of the weathered birdhouse.

      I woke up on Tuesday to a beautiful sunny morning for my typical uneventful work day. I got ready and headed to the bookstore. I walked in the front door and waved to Jane hi. Jane said “good morning Travis ready for the day.” I smiled and nodded yes. While working on stocking the books on the shelves, I noticed it was 11 a.m. time to head to the coffee shop. I walked down the street and walked in the front door and to my amazement there was a new bartista. She had long brown hair and hazel brown eyes that shine through her glasses like the sun reflecting off a window and a breath taking smile. I waited in line and finally Carol said “good morning Travis” the usual, I smiled and nodded yes.