The used bookstore in my hometown closed a while ago. It was one of my favorite places in town (especially because they had a cat who sought attention from the customers.) It was a beautiful type of organized chaos. I would always find something new when searching their shelves. I could find any type of book, and it always had books on some of the most obscure and interesting topics. I don't think I ever left that store empty-handed because of the books stacked wall-to-wall and amazing prices. Since that store has closed, the only other option is the the Books-A-Million at the mall across town. The building where it used to be is now a hardware store and bar (it's a small town).

I'm a lifelong reader. I learned how to read when I was extremely young, and I was the kid that got caught reading under her covers with a flashlight more times than I can remember. I read anything and everything when I was growing up: books, magazines, newspapers; whatever I could get my hands on, I'd read. I'm extremely thankful for my parents being supportive of my reading habits, giving me a library card when I was probably too young for it, and allowing me to read pretty much anything I wanted. But it wasn't until I was in high school that I discovered how much I loved used books.

It was on my first trip to the used bookstore my freshman year of high school that the shiny green/blue cover of what would become my favorite book caught my eye. I remember picking up "Speak" by Laurie Halse Anderson and flipping through it. While I typically hate it when books look bad, I found the pencil marks and notes the previous owner had left intriguing. I bought the book and read it incredibly quickly. I made my own notes next to what the old owner had written. It gave me the chance to wonder who owned that book before me. Who was it that gave up this book? Why did they decide to do it? I was so thankful for them because by giving up that book, they gave me my favorite book. I still have that copy of "Speak." It's on my bookshelf in my dorm.

Used books have magic to them. Someone gave them up, and it's up to you to wonder why. They're a mystery. The only clues you have are anything written in the book: notes in the margins, names on the front cover (if there's already a name in the front of the book, I usually add my own, in case I decide to sell or donate it in the future), or anything that was in the book when you bought it. Those are the only clues you have to figuring out the story behind the book you just bought.

Knowing that someone sold or donated what may become your favorite book can be devastating, because you wonder what motivated the previous owner to get rid of it. But if they hadn't given that book up, you may never have found one of your favorite books. Used books have a story, a history, and have traveled a journey to end up in your hands. You can't deny that that's some kind of magic.