Some of my favorite memories from childhood involve the library. I can remember following my mom through towering aisles of books well before I could even read. I knew that it was a special place, a place to be respected and loved.
When I was a bit older and was reading everything in sight I would ride my bike through our tiny town to the even tinier public library. It was stuffy and dim inside. Usually it smelt of cigarettes. The librarian would chat with me while I picked out my next read. Sometimes she would order in something that I had been looking for. It wasn't until years later that I realized a single room with a few book cases around the edge wasn't a large collection of books by most standards. I loved it anyway.
Now that I am grown, I still get that awe struck feeling when I enter a library. Most of the time I go with my three little ones in tow. We whisper and giggle as we talk about the difference between fiction and non-fiction. We select some books to go along with our homeschool lessons. They love the library as much as I do.
Rarely I do manage to get away all by myself and get lost among the shelves of books. Today was one of those days. I wandered up and down every row just to see what was in them, allowing the titles to spark my imagination and inspire me. I carried the feelings of inspiration home with me. Maybe they will grow into something great.