The day has finally arrived.
The website is fully functional… and somehow, it still doesn’t feel real.
I’ve been slowly adding books to the shop, one by one. It’s a tedious process, and I can already tell I’ll probably end up with a migraine by the end of it—but I don’t even mind. Because it means it’s happening.
Supplies have been ordered for the first themed box, and I’ve already started thinking about ideas for the next ones. My wholesale account is set up, and I’ll be placing my first official order soon.
For so long, this was just a dream.
The kind of dream you push into the future.
“Maybe when I’m a real adult.”
“Maybe when I have more money.”
“Maybe when the kids are grown.”
But here I am.
Nothing is perfect. Nothing is fully figured out.
And somehow… I’m doing it anyway.
My mom and one of my closest friends have been my biggest cheerleaders through all of this. They were the first to like my posts, the first to encourage me when I wasn’t sure I could figure everything out—and they were my first orders.
That kind of support means more than I can really put into words.
This isn’t just a business to me.
This is the beginning of something bigger.
A legacy.
My kids are here for the very beginning of it, and that matters more than anything. One day, I hope this turns into a small bookstore downtown by the water. A cozy space with a café, shelves filled with stories, and the kind of atmosphere people don’t want to leave.
I can already picture my grandkids running through the store, yelling for “Mimi.”
And near the register, a photo of my grandparents on their wedding day—their story, their love—displayed for everyone to see.
Because this isn’t just about books.
It’s about where we come from, what we build, and what we leave behind.
And this is just the beginning.
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