Honey

by Chloe Davenport

When you first enter the parking lot, the smell of holly bushes and their prickling fragrance manifests you and is still in your nose after you walk through the double doors of the library. I am a regular in this joint and am greeted with a smile and a nod by the sweet old ladies who manage the front desk. I am in luck; today, there is no one in my spot and I am able to enjoy the silence of the Franklin County Public Library. Mouse-like and calm, I head to the juvenile section and plop down in the middle of the aisle to research the titles on the bottom row. Nancy Drew, Harry Potter, and Charlie Bone stare down at me, and I dismiss their begging glances to pick them up and choose a new novel series to read instead. 

I drift around the library for hours, occasionally using the computer to look up a particular title I was interested in, but still, the computer couldn't captivate me the way I knew the books would later. After spending a good portion of my day meandering, I will  rush to the front desk, armed with my volumes, ready to head home, curl up in a warm, cozy bed, and read til the rooster crows. For a girl who'd just recently completed elementary school, it was a wonderful, amazing thing to be able to carry ten thick novels home each Wednesday, and then come back a week early because I'd read all ten books.

I cherished the time I spent in the library, and when I think back to the summer of 2004, I get a warm, delighted feeling at the thought of me, with my glasses at the end of my nose, absorbing those words as if they were the sweetest honey. That summer, I remember being rewarded for my participation in their reading program, and I received a series of Captain Underpants comics that I could never bring myself to read. They just remain, in their protective jacket, growing dust on my crowded bookshelf, and I will not read them as they are more precious to me than any medal or trophy for I was awarded for reveling in my greatest passion -- the escape of a novel.