The smell of worn wood, ocean air from the propped open door, and thousands of bound and printed pages almost made me cry. Do you remember the smell of actual pages? The smell that assaulted you as you curled up in a bean bag in the corner of your neighborhood library and escaped down the hole with Alice?
While vacationing on the Emerald Coast of Florida, my friend and I were enticed into a local bookshop. It’s rare to write those words. There is hardly a local bookshop to be found anymore. I wandered into this coastal gem and fell madly in love. Or fell back in love. Words are my first love.
Faded and scratched wooden beams carried out of the store and onto the front porch to beckon passersby. Once through the painted portal, the homemade painted bookshelves rose nearly to the ceiling overstuffed with perfectly curated treasures. The children’s section had gorgeous cover pictures displayed along with bins of toy son the floor and puzzles perched atop the shelves. Not puzzles you might find in your local superstore, but gorgeous puzzles of interesting shapes and sizes displaying old fashioned ice cream stands and schools of fish…
Won’t you join me over at God-sized Dreams today for the rest of the story?