| General Fiction posted May 1, 2020 |
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What do you miss?
Final Chapter
by zanya
This Pandemic is worming its way into every aspect of our lives. Nothing is left untouched.
We miss a myriad of things, friends, family, walks, birthdays, weddings, funerals, digging the garden, trying on a pair of summer sandals.
I miss being able to visit my local bookshop. I know, I can hear you say, 'that's just a minor detail. Can't you borrow from your online library or purchase on Kindle?'
All of these things I have already been doing.
But none compare to that Saturday morning stroll to the 'Village Bookshop.' It's only when it had to close its doors because of the virus that I realised how important a part of my life it had become.
It's been a ritual in our house for many a long year, visiting the bookshop on Saturdays. My beloved late husband, Tom and I used to make a date to meet there on Saturdays while our children were at music lessons. Over a steaming hot chocolate, we had a quiet moment to ourselves.
On holiday weekends there were always stories narrated for the little ones or art for those more visually inclined.
Nathalie, who owned and ran the business, was always happily perched inside the door on a tall stool, peering over horn-rim glasses as she spoke excitedly about her latest favourite author. It really did seem as if there was not an author on the planet whose work Nathalie hadn't read.
I had become used to strolling there alone these past years as the children grew up and went to college. It was by now peopled with familiar, friendly faces, all seeking 'something interesting to read,' or simply browsing.
Recently they had set up a small book club, which was just getting underway on Thursday nights. Another regular, Richard, and I helped to get the book club up and running just before the pandemic struck.
We are hoping to set it up online. But however wonderful it may be, it can never replace human interaction. Most of the members were not very keen on online reviewing.
Nathalie too gave it a lukewarm reception. Word on the street has it that this little family-run business may not make it through this once- in- a- century pandemic.
Of course, there are far more significant losses in peoples' lives.
Yet it's amazing how simple rituals can help to keep us afloat, especially in tough times.
Every day as I pass the shuttered up windows, I feel like I've lost a piece of my soul.
What do you miss? writing prompt entry
This Pandemic is worming its way into every aspect of our lives. Nothing is left untouched.
We miss a myriad of things, friends, family, walks, birthdays, weddings, funerals, digging the garden, trying on a pair of summer sandals.
I miss being able to visit my local bookshop. I know, I can hear you say, 'that's just a minor detail. Can't you borrow from your online library or purchase on Kindle?'
All of these things I have already been doing.
But none compare to that Saturday morning stroll to the 'Village Bookshop.' It's only when it had to close its doors because of the virus that I realised how important a part of my life it had become.
It's been a ritual in our house for many a long year, visiting the bookshop on Saturdays. My beloved late husband, Tom and I used to make a date to meet there on Saturdays while our children were at music lessons. Over a steaming hot chocolate, we had a quiet moment to ourselves.
On holiday weekends there were always stories narrated for the little ones or art for those more visually inclined.
Nathalie, who owned and ran the business, was always happily perched inside the door on a tall stool, peering over horn-rim glasses as she spoke excitedly about her latest favourite author. It really did seem as if there was not an author on the planet whose work Nathalie hadn't read.
I had become used to strolling there alone these past years as the children grew up and went to college. It was by now peopled with familiar, friendly faces, all seeking 'something interesting to read,' or simply browsing.
Recently they had set up a small book club, which was just getting underway on Thursday nights. Another regular, Richard, and I helped to get the book club up and running just before the pandemic struck.
We are hoping to set it up online. But however wonderful it may be, it can never replace human interaction. Most of the members were not very keen on online reviewing.
Nathalie too gave it a lukewarm reception. Word on the street has it that this little family-run business may not make it through this once- in- a- century pandemic.
Of course, there are far more significant losses in peoples' lives.
Yet it's amazing how simple rituals can help to keep us afloat, especially in tough times.
Every day as I pass the shuttered up windows, I feel like I've lost a piece of my soul.
We miss a myriad of things, friends, family, walks, birthdays, weddings, funerals, digging the garden, trying on a pair of summer sandals.
I miss being able to visit my local bookshop. I know, I can hear you say, 'that's just a minor detail. Can't you borrow from your online library or purchase on Kindle?'
All of these things I have already been doing.
But none compare to that Saturday morning stroll to the 'Village Bookshop.' It's only when it had to close its doors because of the virus that I realised how important a part of my life it had become.
It's been a ritual in our house for many a long year, visiting the bookshop on Saturdays. My beloved late husband, Tom and I used to make a date to meet there on Saturdays while our children were at music lessons. Over a steaming hot chocolate, we had a quiet moment to ourselves.
On holiday weekends there were always stories narrated for the little ones or art for those more visually inclined.
Nathalie, who owned and ran the business, was always happily perched inside the door on a tall stool, peering over horn-rim glasses as she spoke excitedly about her latest favourite author. It really did seem as if there was not an author on the planet whose work Nathalie hadn't read.
I had become used to strolling there alone these past years as the children grew up and went to college. It was by now peopled with familiar, friendly faces, all seeking 'something interesting to read,' or simply browsing.
Recently they had set up a small book club, which was just getting underway on Thursday nights. Another regular, Richard, and I helped to get the book club up and running just before the pandemic struck.
We are hoping to set it up online. But however wonderful it may be, it can never replace human interaction. Most of the members were not very keen on online reviewing.
Nathalie too gave it a lukewarm reception. Word on the street has it that this little family-run business may not make it through this once- in- a- century pandemic.
Of course, there are far more significant losses in peoples' lives.
Yet it's amazing how simple rituals can help to keep us afloat, especially in tough times.
Every day as I pass the shuttered up windows, I feel like I've lost a piece of my soul.
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Writing Prompt Write a short story, no more than 500 words, about what you miss most because of the pandemic. |
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