This summer, I'm working next door to my local library, which is a pretty sweet deal. I find myself in there two or three times a week -- so I've actually been returning things on time... well, more than I used to.
Me and my library go way back. It's a damp, old, small and well-loved. When I was little, it was a spot for reading and crafts hour. My mom used to cart my sister and I off to the library, cramming the stroller into the tiny basement that is the children's section. The way our community uses the space, it could easily be twice as big. I loved picking the books off the shelf, feeling the covers crinkle under my hands. And the smell... the smell of a library book is one of the most wonderful smells in the world.
When my friends and I were released from school every day for lunch as intermediates, we spent a lot of our cold winter days in the library, reading and playing computer games. And gossiping. The books we read were all fluffy chick-lit romances, and between chapters, we framed our own lives the same way. I have no idea how the librarians managed to put up with us, but somehow they did. My favourite librarian always had a kind word and a smile for me.
A few years back, they almost took away my library. I hadn't set foot in the place for years, but I suddenly felt so protective. Every community needs (and deserves) a library. It has been such an influence on me.
This summer, the library has again become the exciting playground it used to be. I feel like a kid in a candy store when I step inside. I finally started all the reading I wanted to do this summer -- although, I was thinking of a more impressive reading list than the steady stream of historical fiction that is my guilty pleasure. Oh well, it's summer, isn't it? A girl's got to have some fun. And it is fun when I walk over to the library after work, pick up some books, and sit down to look them over. I didn't realize how comfortable I was there until I came back to it.
Now, if I could only master the art of returning things on time.