What Does My Public Library Mean To Me?
by Sara Nasab
age 17, Murfreesboro

From the moment I step into the library, I enter a land of adventures.  From tales of knights in shining armor to stories of deceitful villains, I am surrounded by uncharted territory.  Scuffling through aisles of towering bookcases, I am amidst hundreds of possibilities.

Exploring even further, climbing stairs of awesome heights, I stumble into a room of past presidents, dinosaurs, and great scientists.  I can find any collections of historical wars and battles leading me through the Crusades, the Civil War, and continuing onto the present.  I duck to escape the arrows of the Indians and jump to avoid the cannons of the redcoats.  And just in case I get hurt in battle, several medical textbooks are located nearby.

I pass the foreign language section, crowded with native speakers of all corners of the world.  I immerse myself in the many cultures just by overhearing a little boy speaking Spanish or hearing a woman singing Italian opera.  The Japanese bow as I approach them, and the Norwegians politely nod their heads.  My taste buds scream in enthusiasm as I smell the salty bratwurst, the spicy curry, and the sweet flan.  I wave as I pass by and enter the area of silence.  When I enter the alcove, the sound of my footsteps bounces off the walls and the ceiling, and I suddenly feel sorry for breaking the peace.  Bookworms are curled near the window, students are furiously writing their twenty-page reports, and as I tiptoe to the middle of the room, I glance at the couple in the corner, whispering romantic poems in the other’s ear.  I pick up a romance novella and take it back to its section.  There, I see the tragic couple Romeo and Juliet wailing in misery but loving each other nonetheless.  My heart jumps at the sight of pompous Mr. Darcy standing handsomely with his head held high and his chest puffed out.  I place the book back onto the shelf and glance at my watch.  With only minutes until my curfew, I run towards the stairs, making a racket through the quiet room, passing the international section, and dodging the blades of battle.  Descending the stairs, my shoe slips off  my foot.  As I turn around to grab it, a certain dashing prince has picked it up and slides my foot inside resulting in a perfect fit.  I hastily thank him, and rush out of the library’s doors.

As soon as I am at home, I fancy what new story I’ll encounter next at the library.  To others, the public library is a home of old books collecting dust with no stories to tell.  But to me, I see an endless number of novels begging to be read, numerous people waiting to be met, and hundreds of adventures waiting to be experienced.

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