Some people have never been to Barnes & Noble. Some people will never have the opportunity to go to Barnes & Noble, and if they did, it would seem even more magical than it did when I was 10, following my dad around as he told me about how he could spend the entire day there and that he’d buy me as many books as I would read.
Barnes & Noble is one of the places I miss the most. I often have to decipher between whether I’m missing a place because really I’m missing a person or a season, or if I’m just missing it in general. But what I miss about Barnes & Noble is choosing to drive there. Buying myself a venti iced caramel macchiato from Starbucks. And pacing the aisles looking for hidden treasure in the form of books, journals, cards, coloring books, calendars, and the other items that don’t quite fit but yet make perfect sense.
What I miss about Barnes & Noble is the rare chance of a comfy seat being open. And the days the comfy seats were all taken and I checked back far too often to see if one was open yet. I miss having a place to reflect where absolutely no one was waiting for a response. Even if I was there with a friend, there’s something about Barnes & Noble that gives you permission to be silent and think and reflect and my extroverted, external processing, hype, talkative self needed that permission.
I miss going with the goal of finishing schoolwork and some days I succeeded and some days I spent the entire time pacing the store, but either way I left feeling lighter. It’s strange to think that there are people in this world whose minds would be blown by Barnes & Noble. It’s strange to think that I have met some of those people. I’m learning that I don’t need a place to give me permission to be silent, think, and reflect. And that is quite refreshing.
