Virus took away our family’s second home

Since March, there have been many places I miss. I miss places in general — destinations, spots on a map that are not my home, cities and countries I could drive to or fly to. But although I miss faraway destinations, what I miss most on a daily basis are my places — the coffee shops I loved towrite in, the restaurants and bars where I’d unwind with my friends. One of the places my kids and I miss most is the public library.

For the past 10years our local libraryhas beenthe Bexley Public Library inBexley, Ohio. Itmight aswell be “Cheers”; everyone knows our names. Andwe knowtheirs, too.

Before the pandemic, we visited the library several times aweek. Sometimes I’d go alone, walking the several blocks there frommy house to pick up books on reserve— maybe collections by some of my favorite poets, like Traci Brimhall or Jericho Brown, or a novel I’ve beenwaiting in a long queue to read. I’d check out DVDs and Blu- rays and surprisemy son and daughterwith them on one of our Friday movie nights. Oncemydaughter begged for a boardgame, and I lugged the big box home. Itwasworth it.

Usually I’d wait and take the kids to the library with me, because they loved to pick out their own books and movies. When my kids were very young, I would take them to baby and toddler story time. We’d walk in and immediately be greeted — yes, by name — by one of the librarians: Marilyn, Bryan, Catherine, Victoria. I’d sit with my son or daughter in my lap, and we’d listen to stories and sing songs together. The librarian would play children’s music on an iPod and pass out maracas and jingle bells. And at the end there would be parachute time, the babies crawling underneath as the bright colors billowed over them.

Parenting challenge

Those early parenting years were not easy for me. But I could show up at the library — sometimes unshowered, with a childwho’d refused to sleep more than an hour at a stretch the night before— and we were welcomed. My son could play in the puppet theatre or build with magnetic tiles. My daughter could curl up on a couch with a book she’d picked herself, without ( ahem) parental intrusion.

Over the years, I’ve been askedmany times how I became a writer. How does one become a writer? I’m reminded of a quote by thewriter James Baldwin: “The terrible thing about being a writer is that you don’t decide to become one, you discover that you are one.” I love this idea of excavating something thatwas always inside you— finding it, dusting it off and holding it up to the light.

I think we become readers before we discover we’re writers, and we become readers by being exposed to literature early and often. The public library makes this possible, free of charge. Public libraries are where readers — and, therefore, writers — are born.

Now something else at the library touches me when I see it: the “Together We Will See It Through” banner hanging on the front door since lockdown began. I choked up the first time I noticed it.

Together we will see this dark, difficult time through, and on the other side, we will gather in our favourite places again. My kids and I will walk back to the library, head downstairs and round the corner to see the faces we know. Maybe “You could make this place beautiful” will still be on the wall. My son and daughter will be thrilled to be let loose in the stacks again, choosing their own books, and I’ll probably catch up with the librarians, my arms full of poetry andmovies. When we leave, I’ll say, “See you soon,” because of course we will.

Maggie Smith is the author of four books, most recently

Keep Moving: Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change.