Library Love

I love this artwork. I love libraries. I love books.

The library and its books was such a huge resource, and a source of support and education for me, and my children when they were young. A library is a magical place. A place where people, young and old, can while hours away drifting a finger along the spines of shelved books looking for that one title, or that one author that says, “Grab me!”, and then they do, without fear of paying to exit the building (or of being arrested for theft).

I’ve grabbed my share of library books for myself, and for my children over the years, especially when Hubs and I were pinching pennies, and buying a novel – or a picture or YA book – was simply not in the financial cards.

These days, I’m fortunate to be in a position to buy books (paperbacks are my preference). Online subscriptions to retailers permitting one to download, and read digitally is another access point many readers enjoy. Perhaps too much, for the subscription format has hollowed the budgets of libraries, whilst ballooning the pockets of a certain business owner. But I digress.

The digital age is upon us, and we must adapt. We must also protect our precious resource of community access to free books: our libraries.

Libraries are the best resource for children, the elderly, and anyone who’s on a penny-pinching budget to find, and fall into Story.

We need to encourage the use of libraries by taking our children and grandchildren there to choose books. Books no one will say, “Not today. We don’t have the money.”

We need to help our children become enthralled with the power of choosing their Story, freely. The Story they love, that speaks to their soul and is separate from the stories others might choose for them. A library card with its unfettered access to fun, educational, or intriguing stories is the gift that keeps on giving.

I cherish memories of taking my children to Story Time at the local library, and later, of sitting quietly, cross-legged on the carpeted floor whilst my children paged through books they’d chosen off the shelves, oohing and ahhing at the pictures, or asking me: “What does it say, Mommy?”

I especially cherish those memories now I’ve no little hand to hold, or little bums to boost up concrete steps as we make our way into the library. I especially cherish those memories now no one asks me: “Mommy, what does it say?” And I cherish more, the fact my adult children are all avid readers, whether they delve into Story via paperback, digital, or audiobook form.

Story is the heart of who and what we are; we are Story. For what else are we, if we are not a living legacy of all the stories – and the libraries, that came before?


We never know the worth of water till the well is dry.

English proverb


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