That was always Hillary, not so much me and definitely not Montana.
Channeling my best friend hasn’t been easy, but it has been rewarding. I’ve met interesting people and had conversations I never saw myself having. People have shown me what they love about the places they call home.
I’ve realized Seneca Falls never really fit me; now where I end up when this road trip is said and done feels even more unsure. I don’t want to let Hillary down, but it would have been easier if we could have just agreed on a destination. Together. When she was still alive.
As I pass a sign, I glance at it and see that I’m approaching Storyville, Colorado. I’ve been going slowly on two lane country roads for days, the kind that go through small towns and become a variety of Main Streets.
“It would have been a lot easier if our plan was just to wind up in New Orleans or somewhere equally as fun,” I mutter to myself.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to complain about how I’ll be spending Christmas this year. Before I can, my car starts making a noise that should not be coming from a car. At least not a car that is in working order, and you expect it to get you through a seemingly endless, at least destination-less, road trip.
My car sputters and squeals as I slow down, my eyes darting to the rear-view mirror to make sure I’m not about to cause an accident. But the road is clear.
With a grimace, I pull off onto the shoulder. Do I bang my head on the steering wheel a few times? Yeah.
Because my dad is never going to let me hear the end of this. Even though I made sure to take my car in for maintenance before I set out on this trip. I was hoping to prevent this exact issue.
Yet, here I am.
On the side of the road with some major problems to deal with. I could pull up some towing options on my phone, but it’s cold out here and I’d rather not wait for however long it’s going to take.
When I pick my head up and look around, I realize I’m at the edge of town, the buildings already closer together than they were a few miles out. A few feet in front of me is a sign saying the library is less than half a mile away.
I can walk less than half a mile. No problem. And it’ll be warmer in the library than in my car.
Maybe the librarian can recommend the best shop to call, too.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I swing the door of my car open and set out on my library mission. Hopefully, I won’t have to delay my road trip for too long.
I have places to be. I don’t know where those places are, but I’ll figure it out along the way.
CHAPTER 2
ELWOOD
Sometimes the books I shelve tell a story, a coherent story that makes sense and I could almost tell you who was the last person to touch which books. Other times, not so much.
Today is a day of convoluted chaos when it comes to the books I put back.
As I look around the library, I can’t help but smile. Part of the joy I feel when I look around is because the Christmas decorations are up. They give every corner a soft warmth that is special when it comes to this time of the year. We keep things festive while not going too over the top.
The best decorations are the ones the kids have been making. We’ve added a crafts to our story times on the weekend; meaning the library is riddled with paper snowflakes and chains. They’re not all even, but they were all made with love and the excitement of the season, which I’m pretty sure is better anyway.
Having the kids around and decorating in the library always helps me find my own holiday spirit. The lights help too, but I’m not about to admit it to anyone. Not in this town when someone might want to give me shit for liking twinkling lights.
I already get enough crap because I became a librarian.
Like a man can’t like reading or want to be a librarian. It’s ridiculous and reeks of off the charts toxic masculinity, but that’s just the way it is sometimes. I think I’ve proven to everyone in Storyville that I’m still all man, even with my love for books and my desire to increase the literacy rate in the county.
They come out to my book drives and support the cause. That’s enough for me.
Now I have to navigate how some people in town are against the business my sister opened with her best friends a few years ago. Our town was a little behind the times with recreational cannabis use. Storyville wasn’t exactly a prime location for a dispensary.
That didn’t stop Greylin and her three best friends. They put together a business plan and then went after it. Most people in town don’t have an issue with the business, but there are a select few who think Greylin is creating a scourge on the town.
As if Greylin could ever pull such a thing off. The woman doesn’t have a mean or manipulative bone in her body. The last thing she would ever want is to bring the community of Storyville down. She wants to build it up and strengthen the connections between us.
Greylin is all about the dispensary business. She’s committed to quality and education around cannabis use, especially medicinally even though she believes in recreational use as well. I think it shocked everyone in Storyville who thought of Greylin and her friends as people who would never imbibe cannabis in any form.
