A Dream of a Library

Should you ever come visit after I move, you could walk in the front door and glance to your left into the office.

I want to make it a library.

It's not a big room, nestled into a front corner of the house. But I can see shelves reaching toward the ceiling, holding all the books I've accumulated over the years. I could put art on the walls between the shelves, making it seem like I'm all cultured and cool. Of course, you'd only have to look at the row after row of romance novels to see that's not the case, but I could always try to hurry people past the library and toward the back of the house.

What I love about those daydreams - thinking of shelves and books and wandering up two steps in the living room, over the landing and down those two steps in the corner of the office - is that it's all possible. I'll save some money and research shelving options that match the wooden railings and baseboards. I'll negotiate a reasonable deal and have my parents help me assemble and arrange the furniture. I'll place books haphazardly - I tend to run my finger over the spines until I find one I want to read rather than look for something specific. And, someday, I'll have a room that's similar to how I picture it.

Life, unfortunately, is less certain. Perhaps the more adventurous of us find that dazzling - I find it exhausting and scary. From writing email to Jon and wondering where we're going, to meeting with Adam and getting an intimidating list of things to do next, it's just making me tired. So my plans tonight include a shower, plucking my eyebrows and an early bedtime.

My hope is that I'll snuggle into my new pillows and dream of a library in the front of my new house.