The Bookstore Bulletin I
A Turnip Head
Working at a bookstore, you never know who will walk through the front door. Their needs may be great, like customized recommendations for all thirteen of their grandchildren. Their needs may be small, like a cool place to wander and sip their coffee. Your ear is tuned to the sound of the hinge creaking and you inhale, preparing for the unknown.
This time, you hear him before you see him, his voice much bigger than his four-year-old body.
“ELEPHANT AND PIGGY!” A towhead boy missing his two front teeth screams.
“Noah, use your inside voice!” Grandpa shushes him.
“Welcome Noah, how can I help you?” I steal his name off his Grandpa’s lips. Noah’s downturned face tells me that this is a mistake.
“How do you know my name?” He furrows his brow, puzzled, jailing me with his arresting gaze.
“I heard your,” I stumble, “grandad?” looking to the hefty grey-haired fellow for support, “He said it just a moment ago!”
“That’s Pop-Pop.”
“Pop-pop.”
“He’s my mom’s dad.”
“Lovely to meet you Pop-pop. How can I help you, Noah?”
“Do you have the Elephant and Piggy book when Piggy wakes up from a nap? He wakes up from a nap and because he fell asleep he doesn’t know there is a turnip on his head,” Noah draws a circle around his head, as if a crown.
“A tune-up?” There goes the deep frown again, Noah’s disappointment sitting heavy in the stale air.
“No. A turnip,” He says as if I’m an idiot, which, at that moment, I feel like I am.
“It’s called ‘I Will Take A Nap!’ Do you have that one?” A young girl two-heads taller than Noah speaks up.
I look between the girl and Noah, confused. They don’t look alike but are standing close enough together beside Pop-pop, that I make another faulty assumption.
“Are you siblings?”
I didn’t think Noah’s brow could furrow any deeper. It does.
“No. We’re sister and brother!”
“Noah, that’s the same thing,” Noah’s sister says in exasperation.
“Sister and brother? Got it,” I share a knowing smile with Pop-pop before bending down next to Noah, “let’s find the Elephant and Piggy book you’re looking for.”
It is only when I’m seated next to Noah, eye-level, that he says,
“I like the flowers on your dress.”
Thank God I’m kneeling because I nearly melt right into the floor.
“That’s very kind of you, Noah. I like your tattoo!” I point to the faded sticker on his skin.
“It was of a dragon. Did you know that I can roar like a dragon?!”
“You can?” I have my in.
“ROAR!!!”
“Noah, I think you might breathe fire! That roar was awesome, bud!” His eyes light up.
“ROARRRRR!!!” What a kid, I think to myself.
We don’t have the book Noah is looking for, but I promise that I will order it for him and call Pop-pop when it comes in. Pop-pop promises Noah and his sister ice-cream at the place across the street.
“High five!” He smacks my hand. “Down low,” he holds his hand below my knee as I go to clap his hand, “too slow!” He shouts, victory as tall as his hands raised into the air.
“You’re too fast for me, Noah!” I get down low, “your dragon powers are showing…”
He looks at me as I’ve just bestowed him knighthood, before running to catch up to sister and Pop-pop.
“Bye flower-lady!” He waves.
“Bye dragon-boy!” I cry out.
The sun swallows Noah up outside of the front door that he barreled into just twenty short minutes ago. He stays on my mind for the rest of the day and into the next.
It is for the Noahs-of-the-world that I do this. Kids whose imaginations are as vibrant as the fairytales decorating our walls. Kids whose remember books not by title but by curiosity, whose wonder preempts all else. Kids who know me as “flower-lady” and nothing else.
If I could be known as “flower-lady” for the rest of my life, I think I’d be happy.
You never know who will walk through the front door, which is the beauty of this place. You may get a little Noah who teaches you how to roar like a dragon just as much as he lets you feel magical, too.
This is the beginning of a series known as “The Bookstore Bulletin,” where I will chronicle some of the many magical interactions I share with customers. You can expect excerpts like this one, though names and discerning details will be changed to ensure our customers maintain their privacy and anonymity.
More to come,
Your neighborhood bookseller aka “flower-lady”