Near the end of my vacation, I stayed at a pretty little inn on the western side of New Hampshire, near the White Mountains. By the time I arrived, I was feeling tired from a very long day of driving through northern Vermont, Canada and northern New Hampshire. I gratefully settled in for the tasty meal the female innkeeper arranged for me to have despite my late arrival time. Afterward, I wandered into this comfortable and lovely library, craving the opportunity to curl up on the leather couch and read for a little while:
I was startled to see that nearly every book on the shelves of this library is also found in my own home. Nearly my entire collection is here . . . from Ayn Rand to Anne Patchett, from Presidents' biographies to "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood." Even the small set of DVDs found on one shelf is a subset of the movies found in my home. This wasn't a small library, really--the book-lined shelves were on several walls. So, odd that I felt as if I were looking at my own bookshelves.
When I passed the check-in desk on the way to my room, I asked the innkeepers, "Whose books are those in the library?" And the male innkeeper said, "They are mostly mine. Why?" And of course I explained, but I think we both felt a little awkward about this, for reasons I do not pretend to understand.
At breakfast the next morning, the female innkeeper said how nice it was for them to have a solo traveler, as she and the male innkeeper are single as well and don't meet that many solo travelers. The male innkeeper came out to visit with me after I ate the breakfast he had prepared. He was wearing one of those white chef's jackets that makes every man who wears it look charming, but he would have been cute even without it. We chatted briefly, but I felt shy and wordless and did not do much to prolong the discussion.
My friend S thinks I should follow up in a friendly way, perhaps with an email forwarding some photographs I took of the inn. What do you think?
Oh, and if you are wondering who is sitting at the chess board, here is a close-up:
14 September 2007
Something strange.
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5 comments:
Yes, yes, yes you should email! Send your pictures and tell him how much you loved the library. Or send him a book from your library that he didn't have because you felt it would "fit right in." Wow. It's amazing how much easier this is when you're giving someone else advice. Go! Email now!
Oh man, I know that interesting feeling of two-single-people-in-alignment (or at least my variation of that feeling).
From my experience, it's:
a. rare
b. not always cosmically meaningful
c. and almost always worth following up on unless you have other information that says, "nope -- very bad idea" or "close, but not really".
Part of the reasoning behind item "c.":
1. Regret about "not living in full" is an awful future cost, especially if the investment to "open up possibilities in a gentle, non-dramatic way" is so small.
2. I hear that Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reaves are itching to do another movie together :-)
Anyway -- I don't mean to make too much of a big deal about this, but shoot - why not communicate? In any case, the Innkeepers will be delighted to have made a new friend in you, and vice versa. If more things light up from that, bonus.
You should absolutely email him with some photographs of the library. How often to we really connect with someone else right way like that? As Phil said, it is rare.
I love the teddy bear playing chess. So sweet!
Oh what the hell. Go for it!
Okay, okay, people!
I'll do something, probably send an email with some pics.
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