Books have been a part of my life since the beginning.
As a child, the public library was always my “happy place,” where I would go for socializing and for fun.
Books provided friendship, escape, knowledge, peace. I gathered libraries for myself in my room, checked out tall stacks every week.
When I was old enough to pick out a university, I chose the one I did largely because of it’s fantastic, beautiful library. It was built like a cathedral to knowledge, with stained glass windows and a giant, leather covered, metal studded door. Come to think of it, I should have spent a lot more time in that reading room.
I met my wisest kendo teacher in the undergraduate library at that same school. If you happen upon this, Bolling Sensei, I hope you may understand someday what you gave me.
Libraries are places of hidden treasures, ready to be uncovered with a watchful eye. As I gather facts, I feel like a squirrel gathering nuts against winter’s chill.
When I got my first house, I looked forward to gathering a fantastic library. I made a good start of it then had to give up almost every book when I had to move five years later…
…it left a hole in my heart, of a size I’ve barely begun to fathom.
I collected ebooks, bought a reader. It helped. I wanted a library small enough to fit into someone’s prosthetic leg. I still have that reader, old as it is.
Two more moves. Heartache, saving, worrying, and then the break came. A better job, a very kind offer from my folks, and finally a new home.
As I looked at my fledgling library tonight, I felt a sense of peace and wellbeing come over me that I’ve not felt in quite some time. At first, I hardly recognized it. Then I knew I had to share it. It was the feeling of being around books again.
I was truly home in a way I’ve not been in far too long.