The Secret

No fireworks. No belly laughs. No terror. No tears. This is a tale of constancy, fidelity, family and love; nothing more.
As a child, I lived all over and everywhere for short times. As an adult, my careers kept me moving. Over and over and over again, I learned how to make home amidst boxes and chaos. Often alone but never lonely because of the place, the library. Unique but always home.
I can hide there. I can learn there. I can grow there. I can erupt in outrage over what I have discovered. I can weep as my heart snaps over the beauty, the sadness, the horror and the kindness of this world and its creatures. Here I am fragile. Here I am strong. Here I am a secret no one knows. Here I am cocooned.
This is not a story but it is a thank you. Every place I have been the people who work in libraries look differently, speak different languages, carry their own woes and joys. Under the skin, though, there is a community and a shared secret. It is the secret that lovers of books hold in their palms and their fingertips. The secret can never be spoken. It can only be read in the faces and the heartbeats of like souls.
Thank you, ladies, for being here, for opening the doors and allowing the clan to enter and be at home.
Pat Karpen (Mary P.)