Mommy, What's a Library?

A phrase I hope my children never utter. (Well, unless we're counting so-young-they've-never-heard-the-word-before, which I'm not.)

We went to the library today to check out some books. It was the city's main branch, so it's pretty impressive in size. No Library of Congress or anything, mind you, but still the biggest one I've been into on this coast. 3 stories of books books books. Is there anything better? And I've got to tell you, every time I check out books at the library, the same feeling comes over me, the same one I think I've always had, since I was a kid.

"Is this real? Can I really do this? Can I really take away all these wonderful books to read, as many as I want? For free?" I still feel a little like Matilda.

The cynic in me is always looking for a catch (damn you late fees!) but the word-lover in me has never let go of that sense of wonder, that sense of "which one do I read first?!" or "I hope I can get through all these before they're due!"

But what about my children? Or worse, my grandchildren. Will there still be libraries around when they're eager to read? Or will they have all disappeared into that horrible place of yesteryear that "when I was a kid things were so much better..." Only, in this case, it's hard not to agree.

A world without libraries is a world without free knowledge, and that's something I shudder at the thought of. People are dumb enough as it is. Let's not cut off a major resource of the written word.

For now, while they're still around, I'll cherish my library books, clutch them close to me and soak up that wonderful "I've been read and loved by so many" smell that new books just don't have. I'll soak up those wonderful worn edges and sagging spines that tell you you're sharing an experience with someone else, the mysterious someone who had the book before you. I'll soak up these books and hope, and pray, that they're still around for my kids, that they're still around for generations to come.