My library love has been steadfast since childhood. I understood right away that every set of library doors were magic portals to other lands. Dinosaurs and presidents and girl detectives! An abundance of adventure, in a haven of order and safety.
From then on, I needed the library. All the answers were in that place. And so was a sigh of relief. As a teen, I ate lunch there sometimes. As a young mother, I trolled the aisles dripping babies and book bags, trying to learn how to be a writer. Later, I hid in Self Help as I struggled to understand – and leave – my abusive marriage. That’s another thing: librarians keep your secrets. Between those walls and those covers there is all of life, the whole record of us poor old souls doing what we can to get through it, and librarians know this.
Even now, I can’t quite believe no one’s chasing me out as I make off with the goods. For this greedy thrill, for the life-changing power of information, for my personal sanctuary – I am ever grateful.