A Sample

This is not going to be your typical love story so if you’re expecting happily ever after, you should stop reading and put me back on the bookshelf. Hello, I am your narrator and this is, technically, the story of my birth. Or rather, this is the story of how my parents met, for had the following events not occurred, I would never have been written. But the following events did occur and they gave birth to me, a book.*

 I have this urge to be a bit melodramatic right now and say something like, 

“I was born,”

Or,

“Out of the worst of times came forth I, the best of books.”

But I digress.

I was conceived in the usual way: a woman had an intimate relationship with a man. This relationship led to an experience which caused a neuron to fire which triggered a thought which split several times to create a brainchild. Mom was minding her own business, blissfully ignorant of the fact that a man could possibly desire her. Her main goals in life had everything to do with higher education and academia. She had no real thoughts on love, romance, and all the rest that goes with it because she never expected to have love, romance, and all the rest in her life. One day she woke up and her world shifted slightly. It happened at lunchtime on a Thursday. A man smiled at her and said, 

“Hello.”

Now, for many of you, this may seem like an ordinary, everyday occurrence. But, for this particular woman, it was extraordinary and unusual. You see my mother’s incredibly beautiful but her personality, while quite sparkling at times, can be a bit off-putting until you get to know her. The trouble is most people don’t make the effort or put in the time to discover how incredibly brilliant and witty she really is. And when she makes the time to put on make-up and fix her hair, look out world!  

When my father said hello, she thought he must be speaking to someone else and ignored him. This happened several times. One could be amazed that he persisted in smiling and saying hello to someone who was so, shall we say, unintentionally ignoring his attempts at conversation. But her indifference only added to the sense of mystery he felt emanating from her. Did I mention my dad’s a bit bent, but in a good way?

I should interject some tiny details at this point so you might have a less-muddy picture. My mother was working on her Master’s degree in Art History. Dad was also attending the university but working on his Bachelor’s degree in Architecture. Since paying rent and buying groceries are a necessity for living, Dad worked as a security guard at the museum that just happened to house the art piece on which Mom was writing her thesis. 

He thought it was odd for a woman to sit everyday and stare at the same painting, especially considering it’s subject matter. What type of woman sits and stares at a painting of a nude woman eating a picnic lunch with two well-dressed men? And what could she possibly be scribbling in the ratty notebook she carried with her? Was she an artist? What if she was some kind of freak? His curiosity had been piqued. He was compelled to converse with her.

She, on the other hand, was not curious about the security guard. In fact, she only noticed him as a fixture of the gallery. She never really thought about him, much less wondered who he was and why he worked at the museum. The questions that passed through her mind had more to do with the social situation of women at the time the painting was created. Why was the woman nude when the men were dressed? Was there a social or political statement made with this painting? Was the artist in favor of the Feminist movement in France? Did I remember to eat lunch?

Their first conversation went something like this.

“Hello,” said the man, smiling at this intriguing woman, attempting to make eye-contact.

“Ummm, errr, hello,” said the woman as she walked past without looking at him.

This was a major event! The man had been saying hello to her everyday for months and she had never responded before! Granted, it was a distracted hello, as one can see from the “ummm, errr,” but it was a hello nevertheless. The man had achieved a milestone in reaching his ultimate goal. A crack in her personal Berlin Wall had been made. He was mere steps from learning her name and the answers to his questions. She sat down, unaware of the tiny celebratory dance going on inside the man’s head. (With such auspicious beginnings one might marvel that I was ever conceived.) 

Time past and a new semester began. Part of the degree requirements for a BS in Architecture were some classes in Architectural History. These courses happened to be taught by professors in the Art History department. It also just so happened that Mom was a Teaching Assistant for one class in particular. Can you guess who was required to take this course and just so happened to be assigned to her study section? Forget it. You’ll never guess so I shall tell you. My dad! (Were this a movie there would have been a sound indicative of angels singing, but alas I am a book and we, unfortunately, do not come with vocal cords. Hence the lack of sound effects. But, I have faith that you can imagine what the heavenly voices would sound like. Go ahead. Try it. I dare you.)

_________________

*I bet you didn't know books could talk. We do though and some of the most fascinating conversations occur after hours at bookstores and libraries the world over. Had anyone asked out opinions, the world's problems would have been solved ages ago. But, sadly, these conversations are private and thus the world must solve it's own problems.