My arms were heavy with books when we left that day, my mother and I. And I had something else in my pocket as we walked to the sidewalk. A library card! That little piece of paper allowed me access to all the dreams and fairy tales I could carry. Up to ten volumes.
That was the beginning of a lifetime of exploration, adventure, romance, horror, mystery, and entertainment. All in the comfort of my own room, or anywhere else I spent my time and could prop up a book.
As I grew, just borrowing the books was not enough. Now I had to own them. Birthdays, Christmas, nothing made me happier than a new book. What could be more seductive than the perfume of fresh pages from the latest Nancy Drew? That has not changed for me.
My home library is still a source of pure joy. Reference books, nonfiction on various subjects, mysteries, How-to books, Poetry, Novels set in exotic places are just within reach.
I confess. I am a book addict. And rehab is nowhere in sight.
Patsy Ann
