When I was a kid, I had two options for how to spend a summer day: stay at home and help Mom around the house or go to the library.
Being a lover of books, I chose the latter.
The Autumn Creek Library was one of the oldest buildings in town.
And from what I read on the little plaque near the front doors, it was built in the 1920s and retained most of the architecture from when it first opened.
Except for some new coats of paint and construction to bring it up to modern building codes, it looked almost identical to as it had 80 years before.
The exterior had a gabled roof and rich red brick walls.
Inside, the shelves stood like soldiers, barely four feet in between.
There were big chairs so comfy you could get lost in them, a computer section if the books got boring, and the tall information desk at which sat the equally tall Mrs. Harris.
Every day when I walked through the doors at around ten thirty, Mrs. Harris would squint at me through her glasses as she loomed over the desk.
Good morning, Logan.
And what are we looking at today?
I would tell her what I felt like reading, and she would point me in the direction of the correct section.
Usually, it was sharks, Warren Goosebumps books, or something else that ten-year-olds loved.
I don't remember why and can't think of a reason.
It was the middle of summer.
I was in the library to escape the boiling temperatures outside.
It should have been the last thing on my mind.
When I told Mrs. Harris, she gave me a quizzical smile.
Our weather books are over there.
She pointed to an archway that led into a darkened section of the library.
Try not to be too long in there, dear.
The cleaners are coming to wax the floors this afternoon.
I nodded.
When I was a kid, I had two options for how to spend a summer day: stay at home and help Mom around the house or go to the library.
Being a lover of books, I chose the latter.
The Autumn Creek Library was one of the oldest buildings in town.
And from what I read on the little plaque near the front doors, it was built in the 1920s and retained most of the architecture from when it first opened.
Except for some new coats of paint and construction to bring it up to modern building codes, it looked almost identical to as it had 80 years before.
The exterior had a gabled roof and rich red brick walls.
Inside, the shelves stood like soldiers, barely four feet in between.
There were big chairs so comfy you could get lost in them, a computer section if the books got boring, and the tall information desk at which sat the equally tall Mrs. Harris.
Every day when I walked through the doors at around ten thirty, Mrs. Harris would squint at me through her glasses as she loomed over the desk.
Good morning, Logan.
And what are we looking at today?
I would tell her what I felt like reading, and she would point me in the direction of the correct section.
Usually, it was sharks, Warren Goosebumps books, or something else that ten-year-olds loved.
I don't remember why and can't think of a reason.
It was the middle of summer.
I was in the library to escape the boiling temperatures outside.
It should have been the last thing on my mind.
When I told Mrs. Harris, she gave me a quizzical smile.
Our weather books are over there.
She pointed to an archway that led into a darkened section of the library.
Try not to be too long in there, dear.
The cleaners are coming to wax the floors this afternoon.
I nodded.
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