The little resale shop-in-a-house-along-a-country road that only opens seasonly, emails to say they
will open on the weekend. It's been awhile since I'd been there so I decide I "need" to go.
We just never know what we'll find there.
There is only one thing I'm looking for. I get there soon after it opens and the
proprietor meets me at the door, arms outstretched in frustration.
"We have no electricity and don't know when it will be on again."
But she invites me in to shop in the dark.
The light from the door shines on a plethora of Franciscan Desert Rose. I find two bowls to add
to my mother's set that I so enjoy using. Now I can serve soup to six. Right next to that, in a
bit dimmer light, are a bunch of glass desert dishes of which I have seven at home. Now I have eight!
But they are not what I'm looking for.
I head in the darkness towards the book room. The reason I came. I shine my
phone flashlight on the rows of bookshelves, scanning for a certain title.
Down behind the chair is a neat stack of books on a bottom shelf.
I move the chair and reach down to read the titles.
Sure enough, there it is. Not just a nicely priced used copy, but a beautifully
bound copy looking like new, with pictures inside.
My own book was given away years ago. I needed a new copy as my granddaughter
and I are beginning to read it together, a bit at a time. And I can only
renew a library book so many times!
Imagine my delight in finding such a volume.
(I call it a God-wink!)
And I was so pleased when we were looking through our movies
last week and came across Little Women. "Not-so-little-one" said,
"Oh I can't watch this one, Grandma.
I have to read the book first."