little worlds

it happens every time we go to the library. I tell the kids only two books. okay, three. okay, seven. and then there I am on the fourth floor, lost in my favorite aisle, my own arms heavy with a ridiculous amount of books, more than I could ever possibly read. my eyes are bigger than my stomach, my appetite voracious. why why why did I not bring a book bag? or a wheelbarrow? a wheelbarrow would be the just the thing. plus, I like the idea of us maneuvering a wheelbarrow full of books down 10th avenue, wobbly and grinning like idiots. I like that idea very much.

I allow myself to check out as many as I can carry. I check them all out because I want each one at my disposal. ready at any given moment, stacked sweetly just beneath my turquoise wooden desk and so available, deliciously available. I want options. I want access to this world and that one, I want the insides cracked open bit by bit or all at once. I want to leisurely thumb through one and then put it down for a week, I want to read three books at the same time. this is the same line of reasoning that has me packing 12 pairs of shoes and 5 different cameras for a weekend getaway. I want options.

I check books out over and over again and half expect to get a note from the library that says, really? again with this book? I admit, I do this because I can. the thing is, I own many, many books. between me and the mister, there's no shortage of books, we are swimming in books, we are mr. and mrs. book lovers of america but the library books, they are something different. they smell different. old and sweet like cigar boxes. they smell like knowledge. and possibility.

right now, I am all about possibility. I'm reading about art and writing and photography and dance, looking at these things in completely different ways. I'm realizing how intricately intertwined and elemental these things have become for me. I'm reading about teaching, I'm thinking about teaching, things are opening up, new developments are in the works and I'm excited, so incredibly excited, more excited than I've been in a long, long time. I'm writing about these ideas and I'm typing so fast that ava says it looks like my fingers are dancing. and I don't even know how to type but she's right. books are flying open and pages are turning and eyes are scanning and ideas are dancing, minds are spinning. worlds are about to shift and change in small and maybe not so small ways. and the books, they continue to feed me like nothing else can. they sit at my feet and they wait to be opened. they wait for greatness.