A Writer's Love Affair

I’ve had several love affairs in my writing life. I’ve carried a torch for the semi-colon, for little used words and old books, and for fine writing tools that inspire beautiful penmanship, fast fading into a lost art. But my long-standing affair has been with the public library. It’s my haven, my safe house, my desert island, my escape hatch – shelves lined with books brimming with conversations waiting to be had, lessons to be learned, and friends eager to be discovered.

My family had immigrated to the United States just before I was born, so when I started school, English tiptoed around in my vocabulary. In the beginning, reading was non-existent, but my classroom had a small library, a treasure chest of picture books, which became a magnet for my attention. My first favorite was filled with bold, somewhat terrifying drawings that lifted the imagination to soaring heights. Could I, a small person, command an army of large monsters? Of course I could. Every time I opened Where the Wild Things Are. I didn’t have a magic wand, but I learned all about the power of drawing in Harold and the Magic Crayon.

By the time I exhausted the school library, my English had sprung to life, and I found a teacher who fanned my newly discovered passion. She pointed me to the nearest public library. A book lover’s paradise. From that time on, I became a regular, a follower of all public libraries. Many a kindly librarian pointed me to books that entranced and happily consumed me. I blame my addiction to libraries for my myopic vision. For my preference to view things up close and personal. To understand and make sense before moving to the next step. For creating and expanding my imagination. For making my world a wondrous one.

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VICKY
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I ALWAYS CHECK YOUR BLOG TO SEE IF YOU POSTED A NEW ONE.
THIS TIME I WAITED LONG TIME. BUT IT WAS WORTH WAITING.

THANK YOU.