I spent so many hours in my youth amongst the aisles of the children’s books in the Arlington Heights Memorial Library, selecting that week’s stack of books that would accompany me home. We also had a bookmobile that would stop at the other end of our block (do those even exist anymore…?), and I’d traipse down to it with my arms full, returning with my new choices. It’s no surprise that even now I have a deep love for libraries (and the magicians that work within them).
This morning, I was perusing my own shelves when I stumbled across Rose (though as a kid, I always called her Rosie), a book that I checked out so many times that my mother ended up buying it for me. I couldn’t help but pick it up and flip through it. It’s pages are well worn, sometimes ripped (*sobs*), and one in particular is adorned with pen markings that may or may not have been mine (though given my aversion to writing in books, I’d wager a guess it was not me). The check out card and pocket are still there, too.
Do you, reader out there in cyber space, have such a book on your own shelf?
Ami Maxine 