The first library I knew and loved was down the street from the house I grew up in. I went there by myself for the first time when I was six. I didn’t return home at the time promised and when my sister came looking for me, I was so engrossed in picture books that I didn’t notice her come in. That didn’t go over well.
The Rushmore Memorial library has four or five rows of nonfiction, a wall of magazines and a rack in the center of “New In'' books. There’s a few spinning shelves of paperbacks, and plenty of books on tape. I spent most of my time over the years in the children’s chapter book shelves, reading Roald Dahl and Lemony Snicket. I would check out 15 books at a time, lugging them up the hill in my tote bag. I eventually graduated to the “Teen” section sometime around middle school, when I discovered Meg Cabot, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and the graphic novel shelves. I rented a few movies a week the year my New Years resolution was to expand my film repertoire. I steadily collected the bookmarks that changed every so often at the checkout counter. I still liked to flip through my favorite picture books in the kids section - nostalgic of coming and going with Grandpa and when I had not yet grasped a full understanding of words.
When I moved out for the first time, the library in my college town became my new library. Like the one I grew up going to, this library was right down the street - I enjoyed walking the Church street sidewalks as the town of New Paltz quietly bustled. I welcomed the change of pace at Elting Memorial Library- there were too many distracting, familiar faces at the library on campus. I had to get a new library card. Once it said “Maeve E. Allen” for the Mid-Hudson Library System, I could access row upon row of book spines and glossy magazines. The quiet study room was long, with heavy tables and chairs made of wood. I found the quiet too quiet, but there was always art to look at by local artists.
My favorite part was the courtyard. Elting sits on a busy Main Street corner, but in the courtyard it was if you traveled cross-country to a sanctuary in Ojai. Despite it being hot or cold, rainy or dry, the grass was always green. The library building conjoined with a historic house, and the tall plants and flowers popped against the old cobblestone. There was a tree that stretched taller than the house and benches; I loved feeling cool under its shade.
I eventually moved from my college town to a full time job in Fishkill, NY. It was dull and my days dragged on as a receptionist, but I looked forward to my hour lunch break when I could go to the library. I had to use my phone’s navigation the first time I went to the Blodgett Memorial Library, just two and a half miles down the road from the office. It was a lot smaller than I thought it was going to be, and the ladies at the front desk were always chatting.
That’s the beauty of libraries: no matter where you are, you can count on there being stacks of magazines, dusty computers and rows of titles. This one was smaller than I was used to, but I found comfort in the familiar checkout counter and old people who came regularly. I walked up and down the rows, combing the shelves for a good read, but most of the books were about older women, married with children. I was looking for a good memoir, but couldn’t seem to find the nonfiction section. It wasn’t until my 5th or 6th trip that I realized there was an entire upstairs I had yet to discover! I returned, day after day, heading straight upstairs to spend my lunch breaks with a book. My hour of peace.
I moved to Beacon shortly after taking the new job in Fishkill. My coworker and another girl were looking for a third roommate, and I had been itching to get out of my parents’ house. My daily commute would be 20 minutes shorter, and I was looking forward to being around people my age. The first three bedroom house we saw was perfect - it had all the amenities we were looking for and plenty of space. We walked around to check out the neighborhood. The sweet smell of fried dough wafted from the donut shop on the corner and we stopped to pet a pup out on his walk. “What’s on the other corner?” My roommate asked. I took a step back to see the name of the building. “HOWLAND PUBLIC LIBRARY” it said in bold letters. I smiled.