Falling In Love Again

By Vicki Mayk

I spent my childhood hanging out in the stacks of my local public library—one of the few places I was allowed to go alone in my Pennsylvania town. The walk there—one I can still take in memory—took me through glass double doors, past the World War I memorial in the lobby listing my grandfather’s name among those who served, and up the marble staircase where the weight of many feet had worn a small well in the center of each stair.

On the second floor, silence was broken on...