Ten years ago and quite by chance, I went to my first Estate Sale. I had taken a shortcut through the side streets when I spotted the signs. It was a lovely village home with cars lining most of the near-by streets. It was just before noon and little did I know that people had arrived at 8 AM to get numbers for admission at 10 AM.

All I had then was a dream of someday owning my own on-line book store and an inventory that needed expanding. I wasn't sure what to expect of an Estate Sale. Would there be books for sale, had they all been sold? There were none on the first floor.  I went upstairs not expecting to find any there and walked into the master bedroom. There were low built-in book cases surrounding a bay window with cushions that matched the wall paper.

I sat on the floor in front of the shelves and examined each book, filling box after box. The woman who had lived here was Virginia. She had loved nature, gardening, animals and the romances of her time. There were books inscribed to her by the authors and many given by her husband who always inscribed the first free page with love, memories and humor. I stood to leave and saw a man standing off to one side. I hadn't noticed him before. He smiled and asked if I would like some help. I accepted his offer asking if he had known the family. "I'm their son, Bill"

We took all the boxes to the check out area. He asked if I'd been to the Family Room and we made our way down to more books. These were newer books, children's books. cookbooks, travel books, and books related to her husband's work at Kodak. As I looked over the books, I told Bill that I had formed an image of the woman who had owned this books. She was a gentle woman but a strong one. All she loved was there on the shelves. He gave me a warm smile and nodded. It was then that he shared stories of life as it had been for this family. We laughed often and became teary at others. I selected a few books and he asked if I'd seen the ones over there. He pointed to an unlit corner. There was an old chest filled with books, some spilling onto the floor. They were older books passed down over the years. They had been picked over by earlier buyers. The books remaining were worn with weak spines and loose pages. Still I was able to find a few.

Bill helped me load the boxes into my car. He hugged me and said in a very quiet voice, "I think she left these books for you."

I smiled as I drove home. My store had a name....Books Left Behind and it had the logo you see at the top of this page. Thank you, Virginia.

A book is just a book until it is held by someone to whom it speaks.....that is when it becomes a treasure.