One of my favorite places to hide is the library, and sometime between 1998 and 2010 they moved it from its ugly little building on Main Street to the basement of what I have always known as the "Marathon Building," where no one but boring men in boring suits worked. I have no idea what goes on in the rest of the building - all I know is what inhabits the basement gives me a little literary woody.
It's my fortress of solitude where rows and rows of books contain adventures beyond my wildest imagination, where I escape to lose myself in the silence of the books. Windows look outside to grass, trees, and ponds which create such a calming atmosphere I'm ready to sign a lease for infinity and move in.
Something about Cody has drastically changed since I was a child, something that would have probably gone unnoticed had I never left: The size of the trees. Everywhere I look the trees have become huge, adding a protectiveness over the town that I find incredibly endearing. The "Marathon Building" has transformed from a bunch of grass and scrawny trees into a gorgeous, plush sanctuary.
It doesn't hurt that it's only a couple blocks from where we are living, so tonight the kids rode their bikes while I walked and we headed over to just be outside. I read a book while they explored, calling me over to see the few snails and what-nots they found in the pond. On our way over Amanda crashed on her bike, leaving a bleeding wound on her knee. Brandon bravely rode back to the house to fetch a Band-Aid, then sat with her while she put it on. Made my heart smile.
With the sun setting, the kids happy and free, the sanctuary ours for the taking, we appreciated the last bits of summer Cody has been offering to us. The days have been gorgeous with the nights dipping into a perfectly cool sleepy-time climate. I know this won't last and soon will be replaced by wind, cold, and snow. So until then, I'm taking in as much as possible.