The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion #1

by Beth Brower

He’s not only thin in person, he’s thin in humour and spirit and character.

I walked longingly past The Dalliance today, St. Crispian’s Bookshop. I did not go in. There are realities we must face, an empty purse being one of them. I did pause before the front window and read the placard, which—being read backward—states that they sell books of the ‘New, Slightly Used, & Abominably Treated Yet Resurrected Variety’.

Rain, dismal enough to be cosy.

My father had a well-loved, oft-read library. He pored over his books. He wrote in them. Scribbled on any open space with his racing thoughts. He wouldn’t let me read too many of them.

“It isn’t that you couldn’t understand them, Emma,” he said. “It is only that I want you to experience them when you’re a little older, because the words will be richer for the mite of your own experience. You see? Give it another year, and you’ll be ready to pilfer the treasures.”

you will look very thoughtful and intelligent. Let us hope you are. Unless you hope to marry soon. Then let us hope you are not. It takes a courageous man to marry a woman with a mind.”

While there are many things beyond our control, I’ve always thought the cruellest is that we mortals are not told when our last glance is just that.

I sounded more confident than I felt; one of the great secrets to life.