by
J. Smith Kirkland
A
bookstore. Not unusual to find a bookstore in a small town, but most
people that ever bought something here knew it was more than a
bookstore. But when Jemison Thorsby walked through the door, he had
no idea the words he found there were about to change his life
forever.
Jemison
was going to a three day convention in Chicago. Another boring
convention where he would lecture on a subject that he and the world
knew he was an expert on. He knew all there was to know about it.
There was no more to learn for him, so he taught others.
He
had never been to that part of the country, and he decided that he
might as well make a road trip of it. He liked finding little towns
he had never heard of along the way to a destination. This town had
all the basic requirements for a perfect road trip stop: town square,
courthouse, hotel / bed and breakfast on the square, local shops,
local restaurants, a park with a gazebo.
He
could never live in a small town, but he liked to visit. That way
they never loses their appeal like they would if they were home. No
place he has lived ever felt like home. They were always
disillusioning after eight months or so.
So Jemison, began exploring this small town. One store window caught his
eye as he walked around the town. The “Words of Wisdom” book
store. Instead of stacks of books and posters of jacket covers, the
display window looked more like a still life. Jemison was intrigued
to see what type of books they sold.
When
he entered, he was more perplexed than intrigued. The shop was a
small room, maybe ten foot by 10 foot. There was a six foot wooden
counter in the center of the room, with a desk bell and a small sign
that read “please ring for service.”
There
were no books, no shelves, no posters on the walls, just the counter,
the bell, the sign, and a door leading to the back of the store.
Jemison thought about turning around and leaving before anyone knew
he had walked in. It obviously was not a book store as he assumed.
But something inside him waned to know what it was then. And before
he could talk himself out of it, he rang the bell.
In
a few moments, and older man came from the back. He had grey unkempt
hair, a shaggy mustache, and eyebrows to match. He wore a grey tweed
jacket, and a bola tie with a large purple stone as the knot.
“how
can I help you?”
“I
was passing by, and I thought this was a book store.”
“Oh,
you are correct.”
“But
there are no books.”
“They're
in the back. What type of book are you interested in?”
Jemison
had never heard of a book store where the books were in the back, and
by request only.
“I'm
not sure.”
“Well,
what kind of things do you like?”
“I
like mysteries, I suppose.”
The
man looks at him as if Jemison is supposed to elaborate more.
“A
good 'who done it' kinda story.”
“Do
you like fountains?”
“Excuse
me?”
The
man turns and walks toward the back, “I think I know just the
thing.”
Jemison
is frozen with confusion. What just happened? Things become no
clearer when the man returns with a book and slides in across the
counter to Jemison.
“I
think this is just the thing you need.”
Jemison
picks the book up. Letters from Simone Weil. He looks at the man, “I
don't understand.”
“I
think you will like it. She wrote some beautiful things. Even if you
just open to any page and read, you can find something lovely.”
Jemison
stands silently looking at the book for a moment. Not quite sure what
to do next. Thank the man and leave? Thanks the man and run? But
almost with out thinking he says, “how much do I owe you?”
“A
dollar.”
Jemison
mindlessly takes a dollar from his wallet and hands it to the man,
“Thank you.”
“Thank
you. And I hope it's just what you were looking for.”
Jemison
is walking down the sidewalk, slightly dazed by the interaction. It
was very surreal. He stops when he realizes he should decide where he
is headed instead of just walking aimlessly. That's when he sees it.
In a small park in the center of the square, on the opposite end from
the gazebo, there is a fountain. Three tiers, a wall made for sitting
encircling it. And a ring of fruit trees around the wall. He decides
he should rest there for a bit before he continues exploring the
town, at least long enough to stop fixating on that odd bookstore.
Sitting
by the fountain, he opens the book. The first phrase he sees is
“Stars and blossoming fruit trees: Utter permanence and extreme
fragility give an equal sense of eternity.” He admits, the man was
right, you can just open to any page and find something lovely. A
woman walks up to the fountain and sits not too close, but close
enough to converse.
“Isn't
it beautiful here? Those blossoms on the fruit trees will be blown
away by the next windy day. You have to enjoy them while they are
there. They're so fragile.”
Jemison
looks at the tree, “They are beautiful.”
“You
should come back and see them tonight. They are almost luminescent in
the starlight.”
Jemison
recalls the phrase he just read and says it more to the trees than to
the woman, “Stars and blossoming fruit trees: Utter permanence and
extreme fragility give an equal sense of eternity.”
“Simone
Weil?”
Jemison
is jarred back from the blossoms to the woman.
“Yes,
I just bought a book of her writings,” he looks at the
cover,”Gravity and Grace.”
“Oh,
my favorite phrase in there is 'Man
only escapes from the laws of this world in lightning flashes.' It's
longer than than, but you'll find it.”
She
looks towards the gazebo and gets up, “Oh, there's my husband.
Nice talking with you Enjoy your book.”
Jemison
watched the woman and her husband greet with a hug and a kiss, the he
looked back at the fragile blossoms. He sat at the fountain and read
the entire book. Then he stared at the trees, contemplating, until
everything seemed to stand still. It seemed like an eternity and an
single instance until the stars filled the sky above the trees.
Jemison
had always been a man of knowledge, not intuition, but somewhere
inside he could hear a voice he didn't usually pay attention to. It
was his own voice, but unrecognizably calm. He felt the air on his
skin as the wind picked up. He was mesmerized as the blossom petals floated
up and danced with the stars. He felt as if he could float with them.
He watched a single petal as it left the branch and he followed it
into the sky, past the stratosphere, and out into the stars.
The man
from the bookstore walked across the blossom petals covering the
sidewalk and picked a book up off of the fountain bench. He took it
back to the store. The people at the convention never heard what
happened to one of the guest speakers. He just didn't show. After a
few days, a coworker reported him missing. The authorities found his
car in a small town, but they never found him.
The
Prompt
photo
prompt.
https://kajabi-storefronts-production.global.ssl.fastly.net/kajabi-storefronts-production/products/362703/images/hnF1JYhISfSfOSU6V48v_ReadsAndCompanyWindow.jpeg
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A Day Framework
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