You could say that Saturday was my Christmas. For months, I tore links off of the imaginary paper chain in my head. I made a list. I checked it twice. I woke up before dawn, giddy with excitement.
Saturday was my local, bi-annual Scholastic Warehouse Book Sale. The whole warehouse was open. Thousands of titles were 50-80% off of cover price. I walked the aisles for hours, selectively filling my shopping cart with good reads.
While I took MUCH enjoyment from my morning in the warehouse, I was there for the benefit of my students. I already possess an abundant love for literature. I read book after book, closing one only to immediately open another. I find myself uncomfortable without a book. The miserable state of being “worldless” (without a fictional world in which to live) motivates me to seek out new books. I like to hold books. I even like to smell them.
My students make fun of me for that, but that’s okay. (I’ve caught a few of them doing the same.)
I shopped on Saturday so that my students may find a book and fall in love. I shopped so that my students may read that book and find another. I shopped so that they won’t have to know a “worldless” life.
You could say that Saturday was my Christmas. Isn’t giving the best part?