fine-free library

stairwell accompaniment:Ben Folds

Admission: libraries put me to sleep. I own a library card, love the books and the words and the authors, but I can’t spend time in the libraries themselves—ten minutes and I’m asleep. I might be more prone to frequent them if I had someone to awaken me, preferably with a coffee, and a kiss. Two things I love:hand written notes and a kiss to wake me up.

These are the kind of moments that, however modest or silly, make me feel needed—I might answer his questions “with just the right words,” as I always hope. But I am always guessing, sometimes afraid of the wrong words. I never know what he really needs and I am committing to a lifetime of figuring it out. Almost every letter, every phone conversation, every sidewalk talk, I still feel like I can’t breathe. And I ask him to tell me a story, or something I don’t know. Always hoping I would say something nourishing, something to make his heart glad. We are so needy.

I believe that grace is what overturns me, and also what opens me.