Natasha Fondren

I never made a post about Borders closing. It broke my heart, you see. Devastated me. I’ve been going to Borders almost daily for over ten years. Y’all have read the multitude of posts I’ve made over the years about how much I love Borders.

When I first decided to travel, my only stipulation was that we always had to be within driving distance of a Borders—and that it was close enough for me to go several times a week, if not every day.

Borders was my home, more than where or which city I lived. No matter if I knew no one in a city, I could go work on my laptop in the cafe and feel like I was home.

Here, I had friends at Borders. Mostly they’re gone.

So I haz a big sad.

I’d found another cafe, but it was always cold, and it just wasn’t doing it for me. And I missed books. I always work with a pile of books on my table. “Friends,” I call them. And I always knew every new release in every genre, and in teen fiction, I knew of every book, even if I didn’t read every one.

Books inspire me.

So I’ve finally gotten over my stubbornness and have started going to Barnes & Noble. My hat lady friend visits. And I can sit with a pile of books.

And they have soup here, so that’s nice. I always loved getting soup at Borders back in the old days.

It’s not comforting, though. When I used to walk in Borders, it was like a soothing balm to my soul, no matter what was troubling me at the time. I’d walk in, close my eyes and breathe, and all my problems would go away.

I always think a book can solve any problem.

Borders closing broke my heart. But there are other bookstores. I’ll get used to B&N, and I’ll eventually love it. They have a picture of Dickinson over the cafe. Apparently they found 11 male authors worthy of a pic above the cafe, and only one female.

Whatever.

So thus begins my “love” affair with B&N. Hopefully by next year, I’ll be writing odes to B&N as I did to Borders. Right now it just makes me feel a bit grouchy, to be honest.

I think I’ve hit my limit of change. I’ve done so much changing, and Borders was the only thing solid and familiar. Now there’s really nothing similar to my life two years ago except cuddling with my cats. I haz a funk.