BiblioBoyfriend and I recently broke down and bought a new bookshelf. We’d moved into our small apartment with one bookcase apiece and were each trying valiantly to keep our book collection small enough to fit. But we both hit the point where we no longer had books we were willing to get rid of. So somehow we found room to squeeze in one more bookcase to be shared between us.
I thought it would be nice to actually mix some of our books together on one shelf, so we created a shelf for all of our books relating to India. Most excitingly though, there was finally space again for a “library shelf”.
No one will be surprised to hear that I have loved visiting libraries ever since I was a child. My family would always try to go to the library on the same day of the week, because that was when the librarian whose name was almost the same as mine worked, the librarian who knew us as regulars and always said hello to me.
The children’s section was on the second floor and I was always so excited that I would run up the stairs. I couldn’t understand why other people didn’t run up the stairs. Why weren’t they in more of a hurry to get to the books?!
When we brought our books home, they would go on the “library shelf”. It was a small shelf, built into the wall under the stairs. Just two shelves, each one maybe a foot wide. The perfect size for holding our library books.
I’m a little sad that I don’t run up the library steps anymore (actually, my current library doesn’t even have any stairs), but I still love my trips to the library. So I’m thrilled that our new bookcase gives us room for a “library shelf”. BiblioBoyfriend’s books are on the left and mine are on the right. There are books there checked out from three different libraries. Some have traveled by special request from far-away libraries. Some have been read and some are still waiting. Some BiblioBoyfriend has read and now I want to read and some vice versa. Life is good.