text: Whenever possible I walked the nearly two miles to my local library. I was nine years old, and this was during a time when one could walk alone to the local library without fear of being accosted or worse, abused. I found the library to be cool, quiet, and calming. All of these qualities were extremely attractive since my house did not have air conditioning and I only went to the library in the hot, humid Michigan summers while on vacation from school. Also, my house was either full of my mother’s buddies, or she was finding some odd something or other to scold me for (therefore not quiet). And lastly, along with the earlier mentioned conditions in place, our house was far from calming. Thus, the library was the perfect place to get away from it all, including my younger brother who had no interest in the library. Plus, unlike the movies, it was free and within walking distance. Walking was calming and it was great exercise. It gave me time to think, I could listen to my own footsteps and let my imagination run wild. I could hear birds, and dogs, and people, traffic, and the leaves rustling in the breeze. All things one does not notice when in the company of others. These sounds help my imagination take flight. I see in full size, full color pictures. I hear in song. My soul is recording data for future use. It is like having a media vault inside my head. As I get closer to the library my footsteps quicken. I am excited to get inside to be with all my book friends, and to discover new book friends. But I am also excited to connect with my angel librarian. I have reached and entered the library, and am welcomed in calm, cool, hushed tones that are an integral part of the atmosphere. The librarian and I have become fast friends. She is tall and slim and holds herself in such an elegant posture. She is the color of melted dark chocolate. Her hair is a short neat afro that frames her head like a perfect halo. And though she is ethereal and magnificent, when she looks down at me, she is not looking down on me. The open warm glance highlighted with a warm smile actually makes me feel taller and much more important than I ever feel anywhere else. The librarian does not just look at me, she sees me. I am the only person in her world at this moment. Her name is Miss Veronica. Even if when I get to the library, I do not check out any books, the walk is worth it just to have Miss Veronica notice me. The energy that she gives me is rejuvenating and allows me to endure any of the madness that is awaiting me in other parts of my world. She has made coming to the library magical and necessary. Miss Veronica then proceeds to accept the books from me that I have brought back, and then suggest to me books that she thinks I would enjoy reading. Somehow or another, she never suggests books that I have already read. How does she know!? This is before computers were used to track books and patrons at the library. This is when books were organized by the Dewey decimal system and found by using the card catalog. It was like she was my own library guardian angel. She cared about me. Reading had always been my escape from my physical surroundings whenever I needed a getaway. Much to my mother’s chagrin, her attempts to shatter my peace were thwarted by my ability to immerse myself in a book and be whisked away. Miss Veronica has helped to feed, nurture, and grow a skill that will serve me well for the rest of my life. She has aided me to not only wield the gift of easily entering other realities through imagination, but also to create my own worlds through visualization and writing. I will give a nod to my mom and my aunt. I have a huge vocabulary and it is because I spent a lot of my earlier summers sitting on my mom’s lap on my aunt’s front porch while they played Scrabble. They were serious when it came to their Scrabble games. I picked up much. Which most definitely made reading and writing extremely easy for me. After I have stayed at the library for at least an hour, I leave. Leaving Miss Veronica is almost as lovely as greeting her when I arrive. She gives me for my walk home, words of positivity, encouragement, and wisdom. She also gives me hope as she says, “I look forward to your next visit.” This was not just a scripted statement. This was a heartfelt expression of departure from one friend to another. Thanks to Miss Veronica I start my journey home uplifted and joyful, kind of like leaving a spa. My feet never touched the ground, I floated home. My imagination is burgeoning. Nothing negative can reach or impact me. I am invincible. As I grew older, I went to the library less and less. It was not that my love for reading was waning, it was because I had more activities to keep me occupied. I started gardening for instance. Also, I began to do errands and chores for people in the neighborhood to put a little money in my pocket. When I turned fourteen, I got a job. I still read whenever I could get my hands on a book. It was just that these new activities kept me out of the house and from under my mother’s feet as much as the library had. I started working as a teacher’s aide for summer classes at my neighborhood elementary school. The teacher of the third grade reading class which I was assigned to did not really engage the kids and was not able to hold their attention effectively enough to improve their reading. Most of these kids lived in my neighborhood and knew me. I did not want them to waste their summer being in a class that was not teaching them anything. I started writing stories for them using the list of vocabulary words that they had been given. This was a hit. The kids learned new words and their meanings. Their vocabulary increased and some of them even came to enjoy reading. I felt like I had honored Miss Veronica, my angel librarian. She had poured into me, and I had subsequently poured into others. I had gone from being a receptacle to being a fountain. She had given me a gift that I could share. Miss Veronica did not fit into the mold of the usual librarian in that she actually cared more about one getting a good experience out of visiting the library beyond having to be quiet and follow other strict, set-in-stone rules. She was not harsh or aloof. I do not know about her relationship with anyone else, but she was my angel librarian.