I miss the library. The holds I can place on whatever strikes my fancy. The book tasting and feasting of current obsessions. The comfort of the paper within this glass and concrete building itself. To walk the writing section and be thrilled to what I see on the shelves. The pined after short story collection that was waiting for me the day I wandered in A gift I still have because the books are sheltering in place and are practicing social distancing too. I miss the weight of the stack in my bag and my hands. The ever-changing stack next to my bed.
I can breathe in the library. It was the first place I came when I drove into this new town. A place to gather and hold.