I took a vacation day from work to finish some assignments for my classes. I decided to utilize Liberty’s new library. On the second floor, there is a reading room. I walked in and immediately noticed a blissful, scholarly-looking spot in the corner. The ivory shades were closed and the sun was beaming through upon a brown leather chair, though it was initially green in my mind. I sat down and angled myself so that the sun would shine from behind me, but not directly.
I had a piece of pie that I was determined to finish for second breakfast before I embarked. As I ate my pie, I perused the books in the “reading room.” As I did, I felt again like I did as a child, when I would go to the toy store. There was so much to be explored. I immediately noticed reference books on German and thought about my desires to learn German within the next couple of years. My eyes scrolled down upon Dostoevsky, who I have read some and gleaned from, and Tolstoy, who I have not read, but hope to. I noticed Hebrew references, and thought about this summer, and how I hope to study Hebrew each day, in order to, Lord willing, prepare myself for graduate work. I tried to recall in my mind what I knew about Hebrew so far, which consisted of trying to recite the alphabet, but only getting to daleth before I turned the corner. I saw Lewis and Tolkien, had a vague impression of what I knew about reading their works and longed to read more. My eyes glazed the great writers whose books I have not cracked open, but who, from testimony, I knew had richness of wisdom to share: Bunyan, Shakespeare, Milton, Dickens. I saw Jane Austen and recalled the joy and richness that her works have brought Amanda, longing to understand what Amanda does about her works.