April 3, 2012


Sunday, I decided to take a stroll to one of the local used bookstores in my area.  It’s a 50 minute walk round trip and as the previous few days had brought nothing but rain, this warm, Sunday afternoon came as a relief. The washed blossoms of the plum tree outside my window tapped on the pane, inviting me  to come outside. In preparation for my stroll, I shed my bathrobe, donned a light jacket and laced up my stout sneakers.

Few people were in view as I stepped outside, a scene which surprised me as I live in a densely populated section of the city. Perhaps my neighbors had been surprised by the sudden burst of sunlight and even now were scrambling for their sneakers. In an hour, I suspected the, streets would be teeming with people. 

(courtesy: NY1.com)

After reaching the bookstore, which was my destination, I paused at the stand that stood outside on the pavement. Often, I can find a good mystery there for $1. On that day, I found four books, two of them touted as “New York Times” best sellers. 

Walking home with my treasures, I wondered if I hadn’t been too greedy. A stack of books crowded my nightstand already. Why did my every venture require destination and an outcome? Couldn’t I have been satisfied with a simple stroll? 

My mother is right. I am very like my father who always had to be busy and full of purpose.

Well, I am resolved to forgive myself for the genes he gave me. I can’t really blame him for my armload of books. Everyone loves a bargain.