This week I went to the library to pick up a book I had on hold. I somehow managed to be an early bird and got there before it opened. The outer doors were unlocked, but access to the library itself, well. I had never seen the solid, oversized, garage-looking door shutting patrons out of the bliss of books in the morning before.
That may be a sad fact, since I am a writer, and supposedly an avid reader. Shouldn't I get to the library as soon as it opens if not before? But, alas.
I was surprised at the number of folks who were there early. Several came in after I did to wait for the opening. And when I arrived, three men in an elder generation (I admire you folks!) were sitting and standing around the small, raised table by the wide door, just chatting, waiting for the opening. It was rather pleasant and relaxed, though I took no part in their group. I could just imagine what the men were like, how they grew up reading every book they could grab, and how the library was a great place to meet and get more reading material. The thought made me happy, whether it was true or not.
I hope I'm like that when I'm older. Still getting together with friends, still active, still loving books.