My Refuge

Every person has a refuge,a place to relax and be at peace. For some, it is a mountain
cabin, secluded and far from the sounds of the maddening crowd. Others find refuge at
the beach, walking in the surf and listening to the waves crash on the shore.A lot of
people find refuge in their bathrooms, the doors locked against the interlopers,a warm
bath taking the tension and stress of everyday living away. Some find refuge in their
bedrooms, surrounded by music that drowns out the sounds of the world outside the
door. More people find refuge on a golf course, a football field,a basketball court, or
even a baseball diamond.

However and where-ever we find our refuge, we all have one. It is a place where we
can drop our defenses and be ourselves. It is a place of no judgement, where we are
happy and secure. This place is where we go to recharge and decompress, to soak up
happiness. Our refuge can change as the world around us changes. We have many
refuges as we grow older. At times, we can have more than one refuge. This is about my
childhood refuge, a place that does not exist anymore, except in my memory. This is my
love letter to my home away from home.

I first went to Elbert Ivy Memorial Library when I was six years old. I first learned to
read when I was four. My mother loved to read and she passed that gift on to me. Each
book was a present to be opened with reverence and anticipation. Once the cover was
opened, I devoured the words, eager to escape into a world that was different from mine.
I quickly read every children's book in the house and started on the adult books. When I
started reading my aunt's psychology text books, my mom decided it was time to get me
a library card.

Walking up the stone walkway, I was more excited than I had ever been in my short life.
Passing through the glass doors was like going down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. I
almost fell going down the steps to the children's part of the library because I was so
eager to discover new worlds and new friends. Going through the doorway, I felt a jolt
of happiness as my eyes saw thousands of books. I stood in awe before dozens of
book-shelves that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, full of books. Chairs and tables
were scattered around the room. Kids sat there reading and in the middle of the room, a
woman was reading a story to the group of sitting in a circle around her.

My mother led me to a desk where another woman sat smiling. She handed my mom a
form to fill out and for me to sign to get my library card. I signed and waited as she typed
my name on a card. My hand trembled as I took the card from her. This little card was
the key to worlds I had never seen and characters that would become dear friends. I
visited three girls in a little house on a prairie and a girl from a sunnybrook farm. I found
a kindred spirit in a fiery redhead whose imagination got her into more scrapes than I did.
I went through a wardrobe into a land of talking animals. I went on quests with knights
that sat around a round table. The library was my personal time machine, taking me into
the past and the future. The library was my refuge, where I could escape my normal life
and find peace.

As much as I loved the children's part of the library, I knew that new worlds were waiting
for me upstairs in the adult section of the library. You had to be 15 unless your parents
signed a piece of paper saying you could check out books from upstairs. I begged and
pleaded with my mom for months before she broke down and signed the paper. I was 13
and a new world was waiting for me to walk through the gateway.

I walked with vampires and ghosts, learned the legends of ancient people and read the
life stories of great people. Cars came to life, clowns were terrifying and dogs went on
rampages. I visited countries I was unable to buy plane tickets for. The past came alive
for me as I devoured tales of battles fought and new lands were discovered. Discoveries
were made and lost when the world went through an age of darkness. My life didn't seem
so bad when I read about a plague that wiped out whole families. No matter what I went
through, at least my family wasn't being hunted for our religion and being forced to hide
in an attic. I found strength, peace and refuge at the library. I went to the library at least
once a week and sometimes more. Hours flew by as I escaped into a book. Words held
magic and I was happiest at the library.
 
Shortly after I graduated, they built a bigger library and Elbert Ivy closed its doors. My
heart aches when I drive by the building where I spent so many happy hours. Now that
I can buy my books, I don't go to the library as much as I used to do. The new library
just isn't the same. It is a lot bigger and not as comforting to me. My allegiance is to my
old refuge but I know many people have found their refuge at the new library.

We all need a refuge in this crazy world. A place to escape to is important to our well-
being. I hope you all have a refuge and if you don't, find one. Look for a place that
makes you happy and claim it as yours. You'll be glad you did.