"I don't know," Mom said.
I started racking my brain for the more pretty, quiet, low maintenance or artistic parts of town. Now, I'll admit that these areas or obsolete or at least very rare in any given town in Texas...However, there is at least an art gallery and a library in the town where I work. I suggested going to the library...at first mom protested, saying she had just returned books that were six months overdue, but I bugged her until she gave in. (Kids, if your mom is in the right mood, remember to use this tactic.)
The whole point of this story is to build up to the high point of my day. It really wasn't a high point at all. It wasn't thrilling. It wasn't exciting. It didn't produce great amounts of adrenaline. I simply meandered my way through stacks of books. The simple feel of the library was enough to satisfy me. I haven't been to a library in ages...
I didn't end up looking at a great many pages. I got lost in the poetry section. My mom and I sat on the floor reading poetry. I picked up a book by Alfred Lord Tennyson and found a beautiful poem called 'Locksley Hall'. We only spent about 15 minutes at the library, but I find these few minutes worth writing about simply because they were 15 minutes full of the moments that I crave...The moments I seem to be at a loss for these days. Quiet moments. Pondering moments. Non-busy, non-chaotic, pure, happy moments.
I feel like I got in touch with the real me again today. Not waitress-me, or love-interest-me, or dramatic-aggravated-psycho-me. Just me.
It was perfect.
Now, the poem I read is six pages long, so I am going to just leave you with my favorite line:
Better thou and I were lying; hidden from the heart's disgrace
Roll'd in one another's arms, and silent in a last embrace.
Roll'd in one another's arms, and silent in a last embrace.
