Dear Library –any library—every library in all corners of the Earth (and maybe even beyond),

You were my first love. I can smell the aroma and feel the hushed silence and energy emanating from the knowledge even now in my mind as I think about the first time I entered you.

I do not remember specifically when, but I know specifically where.  I am positive I had many trips to the library with my grandmother, mom, and aunt on Saturday afternoons in my home town every few weeks as even an infant, but when I think about the early visits, I was at that age where I could make sense of words and their meaning. 

I can see myself as a little girl, stretched out in the aisles, specifically the biography aisles, combing through the first book I really remember reading about, Helen Keller. I can see myself pulling other books, looking at the back page first—there is something about that back page! 

I still remember feeling there was not enough time to pick out a book because I wanted THEM ALL, and just could not ever decide.  Hungry, I was so hungry for knowledge—all forms of it—there was this unknown concept of truth I carried in my heart, my mind, my soul, even then as a little girl.  I have diaries filled with this yearning for the “Truth.”  For, I instinctively knew it could only be found in the shelves of a library.

Dear Library, every single one of you I visit—whether in my city, my state, my country, or another city, state, or country (and I have visited several in my quest for Truth)—you all smell and feel the exact same. 

When I pass by one of your buildings—anywhere—I feel compelled to genuflect, for you are the Holiest of Holies. 

A library does not discriminate against its shelves…ALL books are welcome.  All themes, all colors, all topics, all languages—the library does not judge.

A library does not judge.

A library just “is” and let’s me be…dear library, YOU let me be whatever “me” I choose to be.

Because of you, dear library, any of us can escape to other lands.  Because of you, dear library, any of us can learn about absolutely anything we want…without the fear of being oppressed.

A library remains silent in its thoughts because a library is wise and understands that the truly wise are still and allow the space for growth and reflection and questions while others come to their own conclusions from knowledge gained.

Dear library, you are my best friend. I can come to you with any problem, and you can offer insight with your many shelves.  I will find someone who existed somewhere who has experienced what I am experiencing at any moment.

I know if heaven exists, and I believe it does, a library is just beyond the pearly gates—grand, wide, inclusive, and welcoming like any church existing, ever existed, or will exist in the future should be.

I am in that time of life when looking into the mirror reveals a face that looks back at me–
and I no longer see myself
as I see my-
Self.

I am in that time of life when new music and shows and scenes are too loud and too much and too many and the sound of silence and childhood nostalgia
are soft
and calm
and exact.

I am in that time of life when the more really should be the less–and while so much is thought-
so much less is said
because when you know…you know to do better.
And, better is in what is left
unspoken.

Yes,
I am in that time of life when the thought of menopause is no longer a mystery, but an expectation and dreams are plans and goals made and promises broken or kept
or both-and-
what’s left has now grown into
a woman.

A woman in that time of life who has seen or sees her mother in herself-
as a mother-
and if not-
sees herself as the mother who has learned how to be her
Self
As
An-
Other.

That time of life, I am in
as a woman- now
And keep growing into myself even
further.