One of my favorite places to go when I was a kid was to the library. I loved browsing the library shelves, selecting old favorites and new titles. I remember watching the librarian stamping the books, a staccato rhythm as she stamped the inkpad and then the card in the back of the book, back and forth, until all of my chosen books were marked with the return date. I even liked seeing the dates that had been marked from previous stamps, imagining who had checked them out before me, wondering how they felt about the book I was about to read. And then our library trip was over and as we headed home, I would hold them in my lap, oblivious to the world around me as I marveled at their covers, debating which book I would read first.
I can’t remember if the library imposed a number of books you were allowed to check out, or if my mother did…or maybe there was no limit, but I know that I never got to bring home as many books as we brought home a few weeks ago…
Our take-home number of books: 54!
We had three bags full, and all for the kids, none for me. (I prefer to purchase, not borrow, books for myself.) But the kids were excited about their bounty and as soon as we got home, we laid out a blanket on our front lawn and set to reading a few of them.
Just like I used to do when I was their age.