My Heaven on Earth

I love books. I love the feel of the pages, the smell of a newly open book, and the sound of that first spine crack when you open the book fully. I especially love when a book has a Deckle Edge when the edges are frayed-looking. It makes me feel like I found the book in the window seat of an old house. Something I have always wished would happen, yet I have never had a window seat in any house I have lived in so far. But there is still time!

Books bring me to far-off places, away from stressful seasons in my life. I can live with fairies, slay dragons, make friends with wizards, sit on the beach with my toes in the sand, fight to stay alive in a dome, or go anywhere else the pages transport me. I can experience love at first sight, a love triangle, the suspense of being hunted by a killer, being torn by an excruciating decision, all offering me the experiences of a multitude of emotions without consequences. They truly are the greatest escape.

Even though I order most of my books online these days, due to the season of life I am in and the fact that local bookstores are few and far between, once or twice a year I go with a friend to my Heaven on Earth. We take a trip to spend the entire day at Barnes and Noble in Paramus NJ.

From the moment I walk through the double doors, a waterfall of peace washes over me. Knowing I am surrounded by books floods my body with endorphins. Everything outside these walls can wait until I leave. The high ceilings, the smell of coffee from the little cafe, and the rows and rows of books. Tall shelves filled with rectangular transportation devices, all waiting for me to explore. I have the same routine every time we go, a mental agenda that has been burned into my brain.

First, we head to the back of the store. Stopping briefly to check out the tables of books set out by theme: classics, Oprah’s book club picks, Reese’s book club picks, schoolbook lists, and more. My hand grazes over colorful covers as I stroll to my destination. A huge back room where the used books and discounted books are sold.

I go straight to the rows of discounted books to check out journals, puzzle books, and more. I quietly meander through each row, looking for anything that might grab my attention. There are books about animals from horses to sea creatures. A shelf is full of knights, princesses, dragons, and all things medieval. I am then brought to the world of Disney, Nemo swims by Ariel, who sits next to whoever is the newest princess that year. I jump to the next aisle which is full of hobbies. I can learn how to make sushi, color Zen pages, make puppets, play guitar, paint rocks, make a fairy garden, or any of the other multitude of hobbies.

Being a writer, I find the end cap that has all the writing prompts books soothing to my soul. Books filled with pages of story ideas, finish the sentence, and a page a day writing. I never leave without one of these books. The bottom shelf is full of discounted journals. I am a sucker for a new journal. Can I have too many journals with trees on the cover?

At this point, I start to feel the invisible pull. The other side of this enormous back room is luring me over with breathless whispers. The used books. Each with energy all its own poured into it by its previous owners. I can hear the characters inside the books that want to take me on trips to far-off places. I never ignore them; I lean into it and follow their call.

I stroll down the outside aisle of Young Adult books to see if any of the book spines catch my eye. But’s it’s not until I get into the next aisle that I sit down. I am tucked away in an isle of one of my favorite genres. Here, amid vampires breathing on my neck, flying arrows, first kisses, boys vying for attention, sword fights, and teen drama, I scan the titles looking for books to complete sets I have at home. Are there any old and tattered Harry Potter’s to add to my collection? Perhaps a series I have not yet read?

I crawl over to the children’s books, old picture books, sometimes I find one that I remember from my childhood that I lost along the journey of life. Stories that I want my children to hear, places I want them to experience. A house by the sea, a soft, old rabbit, a tugboat that believed in himself, and so many other wonderful stories that helped shape who I am and would feel right at home on my shelves.

I slowly walk by self-help, religion, and psychology looking for a little nugget to teach me something new. I continue through pets; do we want a gerbil? Then to places, beautiful pictures of England, Italy and Ireland.

Now for the fiction section. This is when I take out my notebook full of lists of books I want. Titles I have seen or heard about, a book a friend knew I HAD to read. This is the bulk of the day. Time escapes me in this part of the store. I am not only looking for books I have on the list, books by favorite writers, but I am looking for colorful or patterned spines that catch my eye. My basket is overflowing by the end of this section. Now it’s time for coffee and a snack.

My friend and I take our overflowing baskets to the cafe, set it all down on a table, and go order. I have earned a large, delicious, specialty coffee, pretzel, and a cookie searching for all these books. We sit down at a four-top table, so we have space to eat and sort through our baskets. Now it’s time to get to know each new character a little and see if we “click” enough to take them home. As we sort through the books, we chat about our lives, the kids, and the books we chose. It is my favorite time to catch up, just her and I, relaxed and not having to tend to anything or anyone. It reminds me of when we were younger and had a lot less responsibility.

Once our baskets have been sorted, and usually halved in number, we are off to the children’s section in the main part of the store. This is where we both end up with some fun finds for our kiddos. I usually get sidetracked on the way passing the YA fiction shelves. The covers of these books grab me all the time. This being one of my favorite genres of fiction, I linger here. But she expects this and knows I will catch up to her.

Once I get to the fiction shelves, I again focus on my list of wants, books I did not find in the used books section, that one book I need to finish my collection, something I didn’t know I wanted perhaps. Scrolling through cover art waiting for something to grab my arm as I walk by, needing to jump in my basket. I found White Oleander this way. The black and white polka-dotted spine caught me from across the aisle. And Tending to the Sacred, gently called to me from across the room with the pink rose luring me to the endcap it was sitting on waiting to be brought home.

It’s at this point we realize we have spent almost the entire day here. Our arms hurt from the heavy baskets, feet sore from all the walking, and we need to start to finish up. This is when I scramble. I run to the back to the places I've hit already one more time to do a quick walk-through, so I know I have not missed anything. On my way back I end up in the bio and autobiographies, which are never on my list. I then go to spiritual, parenting, sci-fi, cooking, and back to fiction. I avoid the YA fiction section because I know I will get stuck there. I now have two spots left before I can get online.

I make my way through the center section of tables where those books clubs and classics are. Do I have this copy of Little Women already? How badly do I want to read Where the Crawdads Sing? Do I need a Harry Potter backpack? Should I risk it and buy one of those wrapped surprise books? The answer is yes, yes of course to all!

Then finally, the front corner where the journals are, these are the leather-bound and fun-covered journals. I walk through the aisle wondering what book I will write about in each one of them. The love triangle book, the faerie book, the autobiography, they all have a journal here waiting.

It may sound crazy, but when I get online, I feel a little sad the day is coming to an end. I will miss being here, and even though I know I can come whenever I want to, I don’t. If I came often it would ruin the magic this day brings me. I wouldn’t go home with bags of goodies to share or the peace this building and these books fill me with.

We walk out those double doors, back into reality I can feel it set in, that feeling of real life. Our bags get packed up in the trunk and we run back in for one more coffee and cookie for the road. One more glance at those high ceilings, that smell of coffee from the little cafe, and those rows and rows of books.