5
I came to work on Tuesday morning feeling a little down. Over the years, I’d come to terms with who my parents were and that they weren’t the parents who were going to show up for the big moments in my life with a bouquet of flowers and enthusiasm. But sometimes, especially when I knew I’d tried to avoid who they were instead of just dealing with it, I let my disappointment in them get to me.
But I had a business to run, and for yet another reason, I was grateful for this little shop, these people I worked with, and most of all for the books. Books had always been my refuge, a safe space where I could let my large, powerful emotions have free reign beside the characters on the pages. This morning, I arrived at the shop a few minutes after nine and grabbed Philip Pullman’s The Amber Spy
