Quiet in the stacks...
I’m sooooo sentimental.
It makes me nostalgic for college. I’m one of those weirdoes whose nostalgia doesn’t revolve around parties and drunken nights (although I won’t say I didn’t participate willingly in a few of those). I get nostalgic for the days when I holed myself away in the darkest, tiniest nook in the library stacks, memorizing and highlighting and thinking. I loved it when the new schedule of classes was published and I could run my eyes over the hundreds of interesting classes I could take. I signed up for things like cultural ecology and gerontology, and a history class that was taught entirely in Spanish, just because I was curious. I often took 18 or more credit hours, because anything over 15 was free.
I was really into college. I WAS that girl in the slick promotional booklets, standing in the center of the green, green quad, clutching a stack of books to her chest, breathing deep the wonderful aroma of learning.
What, you thought they hired a professional for that gig?
But seriously, I appreciated every minute that I was there. I appreciated the fact that my parents enabled me to be there. And since I couldn’t stay in college or grad school forever, I guess my job is the next best thing. Because I really do learn something new every single day. And nothing I file away in my brain ever goes to waste here, because there’s always a library patron who needs it.
The library is still quiet. I just heard someone turn a page.
And we’ll be closing soon, so you’ll have to excuse me for now. I have to shut down the computers and put away the books and journals. I’ll move the chairs back to where they belong. I’ll wake up the student who fell asleep in his anatomy book and send him home. I’ll turn off all the lights. And then I’ll lock the doors on my way out, so that all these wonderful tomes will be safe until tomorrow.