My father was lynched. Mama took her own life. Foster care rotated me from family to family. Then, the assaults. My body wasn’t my own.
Aged out, I slept in the library. My mind devoured the stacks of books, and the world opened before me, breathing new life into me.
© Copyright 2020—Present, Jenise Cook, All Rights Reserved Worldwide.
Re-Published: 27 April, 2020, Spillwords Press
First Published: 28 February 2020, The Friday Fix (RIP) on Medium
Image Credit: prettysleepy on Pixabay.com
The Story Behind this Story
Whenever I think of the inspiration for this fifty-word piece, my heart rises to my throat. I volunteer at our local library. One of the staff members told me of the homeless teens who come to the stacks after school each day. They find a quiet chair where they catch a few minutes (or hours) of sleep. They also do their homework and participate in the library’s youth programs. They stay as long as they can, until the library closes. Then, who knows where they spend the night.
Libraries matter. Make sure your local public library never closes its doors.
Your Turn
Do you have a story of how your local public library benefits you? Feel free to share it with us.
Let me know in the Comments.
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Thank you for reading. Come along on my adventures.
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