We went to the bookstore to pick up the latest release of Elizabeth Strout. She is one of my favorites authors. As I held it to my chest, the woman behind the counter was smiling at me. She loved her too. It wasn’t a competition, but we went through the titles excitedly, until we both ended up nearly moving to Maine (Strout’s home). 

I went into the small nook where Dominique was looking for murder and mystery. Soon she was back with us, asking me if I had watched the series made from the books, with Frances McDormand. Of course, I love her too, I said. “You know she was in here last summer,” she said. “No!!!!” I said, not in disbelief, but in why wasn’t I here, clutching a book!!!!! “Tell me everything,” I said.  “Oh, yes,” she said, “And I wasn’t sure it was her at first, when I saw her walking up the stairs, because how could it be her, but then I knew it was, and I watched her touch the books, and I hope she used the bathroom, and then she smiled at us, so I followed her all through town!” We laughed and I hugged my book tighter.  

It wasn’t until this morning, pulling the book out of the Book In Bar bag, that I noticed the title — “Tell me Everything.” Oh, how I love life! The beauty of how words connect us. Gather us in, letter by letter. I suppose, in my own humble way, that’s what I’m trying to do each day. 

I haven’t started the book yet, but I’m sure I’ll give you a report when I’m done. In the meantime, we clutch each other in, just a little closer.