Im breathlessly awaiting the arrival of a new book at the library.
I could click buy on Amazon and it would be all mine.
I could bend the corners and leave it on my tables out of the reach of children.
Steal glances at the pages while I'm making eggs for Murphy.
I could read another page while nursing.
It would gather dust. I would feel guilty for abandoning it. I'd relieve the pangs of wanting one more chapter and get back on the swing of reading. Then the baby wakes up and interrupts my best intentions. I set down the book and try not to forget that I was going to read it back to back.
I don't click buy.
"Do you have a library card, young lady!?" My friend said almost admonishing me.
I say yes and remember the wonderful relationship with the library. It's a church of knowledge and heartbreak and escape. The place to retire when everything is too noisy, when you have been disappointed one more time and it's one more time too many. It's the place to go get a second wind.
I'll borrow my book from there and read it because I have to return it. I'll check it out again if I can't wait to re read it. I won't take it for granted and bend it's pages and let it gather dust.
I can't afford to because it's not mine and it has to go back.