in good company
February 10, 2017 § 5 Comments
This morning the library was a contrast of sunlight and shadows, soundless save for the quiet industry of my work; staccato keystrokes interrupting the gentle hum of a singular overhead light. The effervescent conversations that drift across Friday’s desks were replaced by the intermittent punctuation of unanswered calls as the telephone marked time with tones that wound through the air like the plastic cords I once twirled around empty thoughts.
I nestled into the noisy silence with the delight of my childhood fondness for the company of books, moving between the dust motes as I navigated well tread routines to a soundtrack of solitude. The occasional scrape of metal against the book depository or the weighted thump of materials tumbling into the carpeted recess of the cumbersome bins were mischievous reminders of my luxury. I was a child left to wander familiar nooks, curiosity curbed by the holiest of admiration for the sanctity of so many carefully constructed stories.
Hushed footsteps and squeaky cart wheels I drifted down empty rows of sleepy books, while outside the sun chased away the new fallen snow as the gutters shed their burden in pregnant raindrops against the concrete.
scribblechic 
No ghosts in the rows by chance Marie? Or is it just the ghosts of yesteryear, childhood memories of many adventures within the books of the shelves 😀
No ghosts and that says quite a bit since I’m often tempted to race the darkness when I turn off the lights; quick steps and a mighty jump to avoid monsters under the bed.
lol…the things we bring with us from childhood Marie 😀
Oh, one of my greatest fears is libraries going away. They have always been magical places for me and you describe it so well.
For years we lived in an unincorporated community, where the expense of a library membership was a luxury outside our budget. Finding a second home in our new, local library has been the happiest of unexpected good fortunes.