Thursday, May 19, 2005

outside the windows

outside the windows

The woman who came in wanted books on weaving baskets, or on native plants. We had neither, but directed her to the Native American section, where she thumbed through the classics. Her friend stayed in the car. She called for him to come see what she had found, and then one of those odd times at the bookstore clicked into gear. We sat with the pitbull between us, and he told me of the death of his son, his depression. He said he was a step away from "ending it all". I listened to his story and he picked up my large print Bible, reading aloud the verse to which he had turned--something about not being given over to death, but to life. He made a list of things he had to do--eat, sleep, make plans, have faith.
There's something about this place, he said. She said "yes, lots of books". He said, no, something else. I smiled, we shook hands as he left. Be well, my friend, I said. Yes, he said, I'm staying around now.


Blogger Caroline said...

Interesting... real nice, u r very creative and special... so: N.C. the W.U.R. (NEVER CAHNGE THE WAY YOU ARE) :) I created that a few months ago... :) Cool... b :)... (be happy) bye!

4:25 PM, January 13, 2006  
Blogger woman wandering said...

So Riverbend and Khalid pulled you in, and I found them but not you but then I noticed your comment on Laila El-Haddad's blog in Gaza.

I love the way that you write.

12:56 AM, March 19, 2006  

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