Having to work on your birthday can be a bummer, but when you work at a bookstore it’s actually a lot of fun. Bookstores are like small neighborhoods, especially when your store is in a rural setting and you know everyone.
My birthday was Sunday and all day I had customers commenting on the gorgeous flowers on the counter (given to me by a staffer). Little kids were wishing me happy birthday (some I didn’t even know) and lots of folks were patient as I fielded happy birthday calls at the store. This was my 13th birthday at the Flying Pig. And with each one, more and more customers wish me well. Kids who weren’t born when we opened are dropping off cards and sending birthday wishes.
It’s days like this that remind me what a small and lovely community I’m privileged to work in. These people have become my extended family. They are the people I see every day when I get my coffee and my lunch. We all know each other’s names and are happy to share a hug in good news and in bad. I enjoyed the little pieces of cake that were dropped off and promised to share the pie that someone made for my surprise party. One thing that strikes me as funny every year is how no one, not one person has gotten me a book for my birthday or Christmas since we’ve been open. Of course that makes sense, but it saddens me a little, because my friends always introduced me to books I might otherwise have missed.
While 46 might feel old to me at times, the customers made this day one of true celebration, and that always makes you feel young.