My local library saved my life. In the midst of the tsunami that was my parents' divorce, it was a safe haven. I would walk to the library after school, commandeer a table, and work on my homework until the library closed at seven, after which I would make the hour walk home. At the time, my mom had decided to move in with my now stepfather (who I adore nowadays) and we shared his small house, four kids sharing one room. With no room to move in our personal things, the house never felt like home. The library was where I healed, where I wrote college entrance essays, where I lost myself in the words of Cheever and Ferber and Fitzgerald.
It seems fortuitous, then, that STL's Central Library made its' debut just as I arrived here. And by debut, I mean how it looks after quite a bit of cosmetic surgery. At one hundred years old, the building was apparently showing its' age. Nearly two years of renovations and it's now open to the public as of the 9th of December. I only had time to run in, return a book and an audio book, snap a few pictures, and leave, but man. It's a beautiful building. There were goosebumps. I think there would be goosebumps even if you weren't a book nerd. The attention to detail is amazing - the people of this city obviously love their library to finance such an undertaking. Now if only I could convince them to send out emails two days before my books are due... so many late fees. Let's not talk about it, shall we?
I may have, out of habit, found my way to the poetry section where I located Edna. There's something about Edna being wherever I am that is... I don't know... settling, even in the strangest of new contexts. See? Book nerd.
So, yeah. New old library. This is a good town.
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