What makes a happy place, “happy?” The question is very open, and unique, to every single person. Generally, a happy place is a place associated with a tepid peacefulness, a place to help you escape all other places. A place where you can be blissfully carefree and where every tiny problem fleets your mind with rapid speed. A happy place is a place, where not only are you happy, but as ease.
My happy place, luckily is very easy to get too. To some, it may not be very special, and to others, it may even be ordinarily dull. With it’s never ending rows of knowledge, the vast amount of undiscoverable just begging to be discovered, the pristine hard (and soft) covers, the smell of old and new paper, and the worlds full of words taunting you to forget about your own- but all this, makes it extraordinary to me.
Yes, my happy place is a library, any library, although I am particularly fond of the one near my house. The one just a couple of blocks away from my elementary school, the white structure somehow always pristine even in Salt Lake’s snowy demeanor, the red dome that tops the building, and will always remind me of a princess castle. Columbus library, is my second home, my happy place, my escape.
Growing up, I had a hard time making friends, like almost everyone. Middle school was a turbulent time, with people hating reading and the sudden trend of LMFAO taking off. I always felt, off, somehow unconnected to the people around me. I cherished the days where the bell would ring at 3 pm and I would be able to run out to my parents car, kicking my feet against the seat as my mother drove me to the library. I would spend hours, sitting in the beautifully decorated children section, browsing the shelves for a book I had yet to read. I had read several series, once, twice, three times. Entering and rediscovering worlds where I felt like, finally, I had friends. It was here, and partially through a fourth grade teacher's recommendation that I found my favorite series in the world, a series that has stuck with me to this day, and most likely always will, “Harry Potter”.
As I grew, I began to expand to the rest of the library, my adolescent fueled by the young adult section, checking out entire seasons of shows and finishing them the next day, flipping through the colorfully printed magazines and taking every “Does Your Crush Like You Quiz?” possible. And as things grew, along with me, I always knew I could come back to the library when I needed to get away. The amount of Christmas cards and crafts I’ve made at the library is quite alarming, actually.
There’s just, something, so addicting about the place. Even though the library was a popular destination for others from my school, it didn’t bother me that I ran into them, and still do. Somehow, the place always felt inherently, mine. The books, although branded with a Columbus Library sticker, always felt like they were my personal copies. I knew which ones had water stains, or writing in their margins. I, myself, felt like I worked there. My little ears perking up when someone needed to find a certain section, wanting to tell them the answer in a know it all tone, clad in my plaid skirt and sky blue shirt school uniform.
And as I grew, hitting high school, I wasn’t able to visit as much as I wanted too. I was too caught up in going to Friday night football games and binge watching Netflix shows to read, let alone visit a library. I drive past the Columbus Library, everyday. It’s safe to say that I’ve lived my entire life on one street. No longer was I leaving the library with arms full of books, probably dropping one on the way to the car and hurrying back to grab it. No longer did I feel the ease when I spotted the librarians, them giving me a warm smile when I enter the glass doors, standing to show me the latest arrival.
It was all rather sad, really. Now, in my first year as a college student, I find it hard that I made it through highschool without visiting the library at least 3 times a week. I attribute it to my busy schedule and the idea of “getting the most out of highschool” attitude. Just on this past Saturday, I was at Columbus Library, writing a paper because I lacked finding the inspiration to do so in the walls of my house. I not only finished the paper, but was so engrossed in working on a short story that I only knew the library was closed when the lights switched off.
A happy place, is a place where you can always go to. A place that seemingly, will never leave you. I cannot express my thanks to the Columbus Library, it’s librarians, and it’s rows and shelves of magic, enough. I intend on coming back to you time and time again.
You made me the person I am today, and for that, you will always be my happy place.
