Library

I can't imagine life without the ability to read. From a young age, I was a prolific reader. Weekly trips to the library were the norm, as well as utilizing my school's library constantly. I remember that, as an elementary school-aged child, picking up a minimum of five books per library trip, then getting home to begin a reading marathon. As I grew older, the books became thicker and more complex, but my voracious literary appetite didn't subside. Even in high school, when students were assigned summer reading lists, I would read the majority of the list even when we were only required to read two. When I started college, I intended to pursue physical therapy. The core classes kicked my butt, so I switched to English Literature. I loved it. I loved the variety that I was required to read. I had to face up to genres and authors I thought I didn't care about. Sure, numerous times it was overwhelming. Multiple readings and so many papers to write. So many. Then, I got a job as a library assistant at the University's Library. Talk about a dream job! I worked several evenings per week doing typical tasks: helping students find books, ordering books and journals for faculty, and supervising student workers. Of course, there was a lot of downtime. The vast majority of students were there just for the internet. My favorite time was when it closed. The last student logged off, gathered their things, and shuffled out. I locked the front door and began my rounds (Ha! How medical). I would make sure books were aligned on the shelves, periodicals were organized, and that stray books were found. I liked looking for an old book at random. I liked the feeling of the old, rough binding; the cracking sound of the spine for not being opened in a long time; the suprisingly soothing, musty smell of the yellowing pages. I would go to the inside back cover and look at the checkout card, just to see when it was checked out. There's a sense of discovery, nostalgia, and wonder when you hold a book that hasn't been read, or perhaps even handled, for decades. I would always think about the person who would borrow the book. Why this book and at that particular date? I wonder if they were like me. Maybe on that day, they decided to stop procrastinating and check out the book they needed. Or, one morning, they decided they really wanted to know the subject at hand: Danish fairy tales, Civil War battlefields in Tennessee, how to cook for 200 US Marines, ancient Greek epics, architects in Mexico, and so many others. So endless. There is too much to read and not enough life to do in.