The Fog

You decide to drive out to the lake. Cabin fever is real, you think, and if you can't get outside now, when temperatures are hovering just below freezing, then you'll never go when the real cold hits.

So you go.

The lake is frozen, covered in snow, and the whole area is hazy with fog. There are plenty of footprints, so the ice is probably safe. 

You walk.

Suddenly, the footprints end. The fog thickens. 

You keep walking. 

You hear a distant sound--half rumbling thunder, half gunshot--the ice is cracking, somewhere.

You almost turn back.

You remember being told that cracks sometimes form in even the thickest ice, a matter of pressure from the water below, so it's probably still safe. 

You walk on.

Sometimes, you hear a faint crackling, barely offset from the crunch of your own boots, like something walking lightly in your footsteps, just out of sight. The fog thickens.

You turn.

Nothing.

You keep walking.

Amidst the ice crack-rumbling and the faint crunching echoes, a new sound, a quick whoopwhoopwhoop. It's quiet, so quiet that you think you imagined it. The fog thickens. whoopwhoopwhoop--a little louder, a little faster

You look around.

Nothing.

You turn back toward your car, now half-hidden by mist.

whoopwhoopwhoop-- louder, faster.

You keep looking around as you start walking back.

Still nothing.

whoopwhoopwhoop

The fog thickens.

You run. 

Bookstores Are Dangerous Places*

I like to travel and move around (if you're playing along at home, you probably know I'm bumming around SE Asia right now). I also like to read. A lot. Maybe too much… Anyway, for a long time, these two things combined meant that whenever I moved to a new place or went on a trip, I would end up carting anywhere from a bundle to an entire suitcase of books with me. Heavy, expensive (luggage/shipping costs, dude), but (to me) necessary.

Then technology happened, and my parents bought me a Kindle. A new world opened up to me. I can carry one book that's actually hundreds of books! I can pack light and not immediately undo my good work by adding a few dozen pounds of paper! Traveling--and reading--extensively has never been easier. I still enjoy paper books, but I'm not really missing anything, right?

Right?

Then we walked into a bookstore. Noah (with whom I travel and do most other things these days) wanted to pick up a new book for our "chill times" (he doesn't do the whole e-reader thing), and we wanted a guide book and a map, so in we went.

… And then I was 6 years old again, in my neighborhood library, marveling at the collection of knowledge on those shelves and determined to read absolutely every book I could get my hands on

… I was a nerdy teenager, spending half my paychecks from McDonald's at the bookstore…

… I was a young college student, mouth agape at the idea that my campus was home to not one, but at least 3 libraries, each of which could eat the unassuming one-story brick building in my hometown many times over

… And I was me, 27 years into this world and carrying around a small library in my purse, but still unable to stop myself from lingering long after I found what I needed, running my hands across countless titles and breathing in the smells of ink and ideas and effort. Technology is great, but there are some things you just can't replace.

And no, I didn't walk out of the store with suitcase full of books, but it was a close thing.

*Dedicated to a literary friend who cannot comprehend why I own an e-reader.