Meeting my best friend

As I walked into the once unknown building
It took all my might not to start jumping up in excitement
I stared in awe at the sleek, amber walls which towered high above me
The walls were all covered in the drawings
done by the kids who had come before me
The drawings were done in red, orange, blue, yellow
and an abundance of other shades of colour which were unknown,
just like the gaps between stars and constellations
I stared in awe at the tall, looming shelves which seemed to be stacked with
an abundance of books
I started walking and heard the click, clack of my shoes upon the smooth, chestnut-like timber
I pulled a tall mountain-like, oak chair towards me and with the help of my Dad
I was finally sitting upon the chair
Opening my very first book.

I always knew the library was a place of quiet
A place of solitude
But I could not contain my excitement, as I began to laugh gleefully
Jumping and fidgeting in my seat.
My Dad gave me a disapproving nod,
his eyebrows knitted together,
Yet a small, amused smile gave it all away
My Dad shushed me and began to read
He read slowly and quietly so I could follow along.

The hush of the library was one which was calming
There was the distant buzz of chatter every once in a while
And the gleeful laugh of another child, who like myself, I assumed, had just read their first book.
The clacking of people’s shoes as they came up the stairs echoed throughout the library,
yet they were gone soon
Like remnants of our past.

Thumbing through the pages of the book,
knowing that hundreds of other people had done just the same
Yet for a fleeting moment,
it was simply me thumbing through the book
I would run my hand up and down the mountain-like spines which had experienced years of history
And I was simply another person passing by
A silent spectator among a thousand others.

Now, every time I walk into a library
It is as though I am being greeted by an old friend