Last night I went for therapy.
The session was soothing, effective, completely relaxing, and best of all, free – well – except for the products I bought while I there. Everyone really should try it. I can even give you the name of the place so you can check it out yourself.
It’s called Chapters. (For the readers who are not Canadian, I will explain here that Chapters is our very own chain of bookstores.) There is one not too far from us.
The store is inviting and the aroma is absolutely divine, thanks to paper, ink and Starbucks. I walk in the door and pause for a moment to close my eyes and inhale. The therapy begins in that moment and progresses in familiar stages as I slowly make the circuit. Bestsellers, new arrivals, bargain books, general fiction, reference and writing, and finally, the Moleskine display. I will deviate from time to time, but this routine is part of the therapy.
I nod to the sales clerks on the floor, but they know to leave me alone unless I ask. The occasional fellow therapy recipient will smile in passing or comment quietly if we happen to stop at the same bookshelf. It’s all very comforting. Unless a parent with screaming children chooses to ignore the fact that their offspring are disrupting the peace. This is why I like to schedule my sessions during the store’s last hour of business. No kids.
Last night’s therapy was good. Quiet. Calm. Happy. An hour with thousands of wonderful friends . . . the books.
I think my mansion in Heaven will smell like a Chapters store.