Musty pages

Books, like friends, should be few and well chosen. Like friends, too, we should return to them again and again for, like true friends, they will never fail us - never cease to instruct - never cloy.

~Charles Caleb Colton

This morning I was particularly cranky, so when Chelley invited me to walk to the library with her, I left my paper-strewn desk and email-laden computer without a second thought. What a beautiful day today was! Campus was alive with student life, the sun beating down on spring games, and it felt good to stretch my too-seldom-used legs.

We climbed to the third floor, in search of On the Road by Jack Kerouac and of The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. Neither of us confident of our Dewey Decimal skills, we half-joked that we might end up getting lost. After only a couple minutes, though, in a far and quiet corner of the library, we found our row of shelves. And that is where we remained for the next twenty minutes, reading titles, wondering what those famous stories are about, gently opening old books and drinking in their musty pages. The bottom row of shelves drew us to the floor and conversation.

Finally back to the circulation desk, to check out books, we went. The librarian, in the midst of daily chores and answering questions from stressed-out students, came alive with the selection of Kerouac and Steinbeck. In a moment we saw a transformation. We saw her passion for books and her comraderie with another book-lover.

Stacks of books.

A good friend.

Thank You, Lord, for the quiet moments of life.