Recently, I dropped by the library briefly. Well, by “briefly,” I mean that my intention was to dash in, find a specific book, then leave to go for a run. Silly me, huh? Such places are tingling with enchantment, pulling even the most wary visitor into a trance of child-like rapture. Generations of history and culture and philosophy and poetry, waiting to be discovered! Down a rabbit-trail books I wandered, each title’s worn binding and yellowed pages calling my name. Curiosity driving my steps, I ran around like a child in a candy shop, stacking books high, until I could scarcely carry them. Wide eyes surveyed the endless shelves with a mixture of glee and regret. How marvelous that so much to discover was before me, and how tragic that I lack the capacity to learn of it. One hour and fifteen books later, I emerged into the sunshine, full of happy anticipation.
Some things never change. Flashbacks from childhood…the way that my sister and I searched library shelves for new books, how we always checked out the maximum number allowed. The nights that turned into mornings, while I was wide awake, lost in the pages of another world. The afternoons when I (rather successfully) hid from my parents, in order to finish the next chapter, and the next, and the next.
This summer, and beyond, may my inner child come alive again. Never again shall the pressure and stress cause me to grow stale or cease to learn.
Eek! So excited. Gotta go read now…