Lurking in the Children’s Section
We have no internet at home, and have not had internet for almost two days (thank you Comcast), so finally I took myself off to our town library to work.
I love our library. It’s pretty small, but it’s friendly and you can request books from throughout the county system and they come really quickly. Also, they don’t yell at me, no matter how big our late fines are, which I really really appreciate.
Normally, I’m here with the children and we head straight upstairs to the children’s section. When I walked into the beautifully cool library today, however, I was not with the children. I didn’t even have my card with me. I was here entirely to work, to use their fully functional wi-fi. So there was no reason to go upstairs. Why would I? I’m a middle-aged woman, without children in tow. Surely I should sit downstairs with the rest of the grown-ups.
I couldn’t. I stood there awkwardly. Wandered around for a moment. Tried to imagine myself sitting among the biographies or the gardening books. Then I fled upstairs with a huge sense of relief.
So now I’m sitting at the single table in the YA section, happily writing away and I feel at home. Every so often a teen slinks in apologetically, like they’re disturbing me, and I grin at them. They get a book or two and slink away again. I hope they don’t think I’m usurping their space. I want to leap up and say — oh, have you read this one? This one? Try this one! I’ve read them ALL!
That’s a minor exaggeration, just so you know.
This is my library home. I imagine some people just adore sitting among the periodicals or mystery novels. I want to sit next to the picture books and the middle-grade fairy stories, even if the table is a bit low for me.
And it really isn’t too low. Funnily enough, it fits me perfectly.