I owned a brick and mortar bookshop once upon a time. Then the economy crashed. And Kindle happened. And Amazon wiped out tens of thousands of independently-owned businesses – like bookshops.

Like our bookshop.

There’s nothing like a real book. The printed page. The tactile experience of smelling a book and turning its pages with an eager finger tip.

The Montana Book Company in Helena reminds me a lot of my own bookshop. There’s an inviting homeyness; a warmth that beckons and encourages visitors to linger – to touch, turn, and explore the pages of the books that are carefully – thoughtfully – selected to occupy the shop’s weathered shelves. The books they choose are for you, the community it serves: Knitters, yogis, hunters, gatherers, children, grandparents, new parents, dog lovers, nature lovers – and if they don’t have it, they can get it.

It’s ok, you can wait a couple of days – marinate in the anticipation. Remember that feeling? It’s been awhile. Things seem to come to us as fast as our desires can conjure them anymore.

Take a step back, and maybe a nice, long, deep breath – what’s your rush? Pick up another book and read that while you wait for your book to come in. Then maybe head across the street for a cup of coffee – you know, the place where the jukebox plays the Beatles because the owner is a fan.