An Open Love Letter

Some Thoughts in Honor of the Multnomah County Library's 150th Year

The door swings heavy,
Solid wood,
Clear glass,
Mottled glass and rattling,
So many different doors but all lead to the same.
Library, sanctuary, help, escape, these you have been to me.

Each is different, yet each is the same.
The quiet of research, the clamor of story time.
A wall of shelves in a hidden corner,
A grand building of marble and authors.

The smell of wool
Dampened by rain.
Humanity,
In varying degrees of unwash.
Outside cares and inside woes,
All fade away when confronted by the intoxicating perfume of books.

Musty, dusty,
New and old.
Hardcovers with their crinkly cellophane wrappers,
Paperbacks with contact paper protectors.
Adventure and history,
Love and suspense,
Mystery and drama,
Limited only by the span of my arms (and the size of my overdue fines).

I stand, reading.
I sit on the floor, reading.
I would loll about, reading,
If I could,
If the librarian would let me.

O, the librarian.
Friend,
Confidante,
Disciplinarian,
Conspirator,
Upside-down reader
And right-side up thinker.

All this to say,
I love libraries,
Be they small, middlin' or large,
New or 150 years young.