book ’em
February 2, 2016 § 9 Comments
On Sunday I escaped the loosely configured routine of our typical Sunday to explore our new public library with both children. It was a homecoming of sorts, a happy reunion of lost afternoons; memories of old experiences in an unfolding moment of discovery.
For the past nine years we had lived in an unincorporated neighborhood, where the cost of joining our local library was beyond the limitations of our budget – with one exception. On a singular occasion, several years past, we invested our holiday savings into twelve months of indulgence; scooping piles of books into heavy bags, weekly, to fill endless hours of adventure.
At the conclusion of that year, we returned to supplementing our personal library with our children’s school libraries, friendly exchanges, school book sales, and e-readers. Still, we reminisced the luxury of squandering afternoons among shelves of unread stories. The liberty of endless titles.
Frequently, as our errands lead us past the grandness of a building to which we so fleetingly belonged, we would find ourselves lost to sentimental musings of that year among her walls. We resigned ourselves to contentment with the library we built at home.
Books gifted from family friends, keepsakes of my husband’s and my own childhoods, beloved series of our children’s early favorites and required school readings endlessly stacked and reorganized with great affection.
Here, in our new community, it took me too long to consider the possibility of a different experience. Having moved at the start of the school year, my children’s backpacks and hands are perpetually filled with those titles that follow them home from school.
Sunday, I was more a child than my own children.
I visited familiar stories as I sought specific titles, let my hand linger in acknowledgement along well-worn bindings. It was the place of every library I’ve loved and ever story I have lost myself to.
I was a child with a wagon and a girl with large dreams.
A new mother in our first family home, a closely knit community with a modest library just an unhurried walk away. The place of my son and daughter’s first library cards, hot summer days and cold winter afternoons given to stories.
A mother to older children squandering savings on a passport to a year of privilege among so many pages.
A reader and dreamer once more entitled to travel the world of storytellers and sages for free.
scribblechic 
I’ve been a Langley member for most of my life. When I was a foster carer, I made a point of enrolling the children that were placed with us. And of course, my children too. These days our libraries are under threat from cuts-my childhood without the two branches I used to visit is unimaginable.
Andy, I was, literally, jumping up and down between the aisles. Quietly, of course.
Ha ha, yes- woe betide the librarians “Sshhhhh!!!!”
^^^ Langley member? Was supposed to be library, but one of the libraries is called Langley Library, so how’s that for an omniscient autocorrect?!!
I think “omniscient autocorrect” deserves a moment of appreciation; easily my favorite phrase of the day.
🙂
And a place to nurture dreams Marie, seeing in our minds eye the hopes in our hearts of a future beauty in those words we read.
Great post, thank you for sharing 🙂
Beautiful writing
Thank you!