A.R. Geiger

So, to properly understand this post, I’ve gotta explain something to y’all.

I have this reoccurring dream. It’s probably my favorite, and it only shows up once in a blue moon, but when it does, it’s always too short.

Basically, I’m in a bookstore. And in that bookstore is every kind of book you can think of. I can find everything. Anything I want. New books, old books, books I’ve never heard of but instantly want to read.

Everything.

If you haven’t guessed, this is not how I feel when I walk into all the bookstores I’ve ever visited.

They’re always severely limited.

Until, that is, I went on my baby moon with my husband. We went to Portland, Oregon, and by chance, our hotel was a five minute walk from Powell’s City of Books.

By chance.

Ahem.

Anyway, this was my first time ever hearing about Powell’s. Somehow, in the vast confusion that is my life, I missed it.

Y’all. It was glorious. It was everything I’ve ever dreamed a bookstore could be.

Just in case you didn’t know, it’s literally the world’s largest independently owned bookstore. It covers an entire city block, and is three stories tall. And every inch of those three stories is stuffed with books.

New books. Used books. Books so old their pages are cracking. Children’s books. History books. They literally have the book sorted into different rooms so that you have half a chance of not getting lost inside for the rest of your life.

I got lost. Several times.

Kinda wish I was still lost there, but, you know. Life and jobs and that sort of thing.

Y’all, there was a rare book room there with a book from the 1400s. That’s how amazing it was.

My husband was so kind and understanding and he let me browse as much as I wanted. We technically had way too much luggage to begin with and no real space to bring anything back to Colorado with us, but there was no way I could go into a bookstore like that and not come out with something.

So we compromised and all of us bought books.

My husband is the Star Wars enthusiast. My son loves sharks. I’m the history nerd.

It was a great compromise.

Our backs were a little sore hauling everything home, but we managed. It was worth it.

I’m still a little sad that the bookstore of my dreams is halfway across the country instead of in my city, but to be fair, if it was here in Colorado, I would be way more broke than I already am.

It’s probably good for my future retirement plans that I don’t have easy access to any book I want to buy, whenever I want to buy it.

That sounds a little dangerous.