...the library. When I was a little girl, I was a voracious reader. We lived about 5 blocks from the library so once I got to a certain age my Mom would let me walk there by myself. Our local library was so tiny, just a double wide trailer with the adult section on one end, children's on the other. I would start at the letter "A" and read my way all the way through the alphabet then start all over again. I was constantly bugging the grouchy librarian with requests for inter-library loans, spent hours pouring over the card catalog. We had a 10-book limit back then, and I always checked out the maximum allowed. I'd pile my books into a tote bag and head home, breathless with the exercise as well as the anticipation of my new tomes. I'd curl up in my bed and devour each page, in absolute heaven. I never had a late fee because I read the books too fast, couldn't wait to return them and start the process all over again. Books were my friends when I was lonely, they helped me escape when I was worried or scared, they made me laugh and cry and learn about life.
I continued to read throughout adulthood and fostered the passion in my children. I visited the library so often that I became on first name basis with all of the librarians. Something shifted, though, when I started going through the divorce. I found myself unable to focus as well, my mind wouldn't settle down and follow the plot. For once my beloved books did not provide the respite from daily life that they once had, so I took a hiatus from reading. For about 3 years I only read a couple of novels, focusing instead on magazines which catered to my short attention span. Beren mentioned this to me the other day, was surprised to hear what a huge reader I had been he never saw me with an actual book in my hand. Huh. He was right, and it bothered me. I realized that I was missing my favorite authors, my literary life. There is am empty spot that only reading can fill.
So tonight I grabbed my pink fuzzy Emily Strange tote bag and headed to the library, greeted my librarian friends and gathered up some treasures from the New Fiction section. As I drove home with a smile on my face I once again felt just like that little girl, anxious to get home to meet some new friends in the pages of a book. Happiness indeed.
3 comments:
There's nothing quite like the feeling of a successful library trip. I wonder if librarians know just how much they are loved!
I feel the same way - except with so little time to read anymore.
Grace, I wish my librarian experience had been better as a little girl; unfortunately they fit the grumpy spinster stereotype! They did nothing to further my passion for reading but fortunately I didn't allow them to stifle it either. Now the library staff I like are all men, wonder why?
oh, the joys, the time will come again, I promise. It's so hard when your kids are young! I used to sneak my reading time in whent they were napping and did my best to ignore those voices in my head that were telling me I "should be" doing something else.
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