On Borders

So Borders is closing. Or declaring bankruptcy. Or something. Whatever. Not important. What IS important is that the Borders in my town is closing and that’s probably been the most devastating news I’ve heard since my parents got divorced. Not even joking.

Because Borders was more than just a place I went a lot to get out of the house and let my creative juices flow. (That always sounds weird. Doesn’t that sound weird? What kind of juices are they and where are they flowing to and how will I replenish said juices?) Borders was more than a place with mouthwatering white chocolate mochas and friendly, personable baristas. Borders was even more than my safe space- I mean, like in tag. Remember when you were young and there was always one agreed upon spot that was out of bounds from the game? Where you could catch your breath without fear of being tagged? That’s what Borders is to me. My out-of-bounds, where the world doesn’t exist, where I can just be.

Borders was more than all of that. Borders was, above all other things, a bookstore.

That seems awfully anticlimactic, doesn’t it? But it’s not. Think about it; with businesses like Amazon selling books out of a warehouse online and eBooks dominating the market, where do actual bookstores fit into the equation? They’re less cost efficient, that’s for sure. You don’t have to pay for decent lighting and heating for a warehouse. You don’t have to hire as many people, you don’t have to set up a coffee shop. And you certainly don’t have to worry about the aura of the place.

I see the word “bookstore” like I see the word “castle”. In my head, they’re both places of majestic wonder, and although the world is beginning to move past them, they’ll always carry a certain amount of magic. So many stories, so many ideas, hopes, and dreams are captured in bookstores, and you only have to walk through the doors to be exposed. As I get older I find myself at least being able to tolerate shopping for clothes and other things, but the one type of shopping that is constant and will never cease to make me happy is that of book shopping.

I love walking down an isle of bookcases that tower over my head, with their colored spines stacked gracefully on both sides. I love being able to reach out and take one, inhale the crisp paper, and read a few pages to gauge my interest. And I love that no matter how long my mom lets me browse, there’s always more for the next time. And the next. And the next.

But Borders is closing. Or declaring bankruptcy. Or something. And all I really feel is empty. Like the economic recession has personally decided to take away the one thing that I could always count on; a table near the front of the cafe, a smiling barista that knows me by name and quirks, and a never ending cycle of literature.

The UC is mostly empty, and even though no one I actually know is around, it’s a struggle to keep myself under control. To keep myself from crying. It’s one thing to lose your best friend to circumstances you don’t fully understand.

It’s another thing to lose your favorite bookstore.