I will never forget "my first library". An old two story building with teal bars running around the perimeter. The second story had a balcony and occasionally on a summer day the french doors would be open. I never did venture through those doors but I remember hearing the sounds of cars driving on the street below as I searched for a book.
The lower level of the library was what I remember the most for that was the children's area. The carpet was flat, industrial carpet with lots of squares of color. There was even a small hopscotch running through the middle. It was here I first discovered the Flicka, Ricka, Dicka books. Stories about three blue eyed, blond hair Swedish girls whose mother made them red and white polka dotted dresses. As I pulled this book off the shelf and thumbed through it I wondered, "Why haven't we ever read these before?" It was the first time I wanted to read every book written by that author. It also included books about Snip, Snap, Snurr. Three Swedish boys. For awhile I checked them out over and over. A few years back I found those books and have relived them again with my children.
When my oldest two where little we had a little neighborhood play group. Once a week we would attend the library story hour. We attended faithfully every week. (I must admit I think we went more so I could socialize, but the girls loved it). This library was in it's second building. Story hour was in a small kiva area with a few stairs. It was cozy and personal.
I didn't realize how personal until a few years later. The library once again had moved to it's current location. One of the story time tellers had come back to visit the library and I was there with my youngest two for story time. She recognized me and stopped to ask about my two little girls, who of course are now not so little anymore. I was amazed she even knew us and especially that she remembered specifics about my girls.
With my oldest two we also traveled to visit family in Nebraska twice in the same year. They live in a small town where you could walk a majority of the town and we often did. We would stop at the local library. The children's area was in the basement and we would gather an armful of books and sit on the corner bing bags to read for awhile. It was quiet, cozy and filled with imaginative adventure.
There are times now I can go to our local library and still feel that quiet coziness and other times it is alive with people.
Just the other day, upon my kids request, we packed up a picnic lunch and ventured to our library. During the summer they host story hour on the lawn. We have attended this for years and loved when they used to bring in story tellers. Now it is the local librarians. They can be entertaining but mostly for the preschool age so we don't go near as often. We arrived a few minutes later than our usual 30 minutes early. We could hardly find a spot anywhere on the grassy hill. The mothers, fathers and children seemed to be everywhere. This was often the case with story time, thus why we usually arrived 30 minutes early, but it seemed even more crowded this day.
I am grateful that the
library is doing programs that attract a lot of people but I couldn't help miss the days of past when it wasn't as well attended. It was kind of like my little secret.
I got a Nook for Christmas and have been reading all my books on it. I have to say that I miss the smell and feel of a real book though. Reminds me of my childhood, too.
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