April 21, 2010

• The days I know why….

  I think most of us have days when we wonder why on earth we do what we do, regardless of what that may be.  Some days are too long, too frustrating, too reactive, too…. too…..  but what I always know, even on the days when I want to ship them all to an island not yet discovered, I know that I care about all of these kids that walk (sometimes run) in and out of my life.  It is a glorious moment to watch them graduate and go off to their future, eyes bright hearts full of hope.  They come back, many of them, to check in with their librarian – many still asking what to read for fun in that quiet time of summer and breaks, others needing a pat on the back, still others needing a paper proofed or a reference checked. And sometimes they come to me because they are growing up too fast, life is too much for them and they need a touch stone.  And so it is with B.
  B. is 19, a sophomore in a four-year college where she got a full ride.  This is no mean feat coming from our small high school with no honors classes and little to ofer if the student doesn’t participate in athletics.  But B. worked hard, did two years of post-secondary option, and earned her way.  She’s had difficult times in her life.  Her father abuses drugs and was abusive to her mother and probably her.  She feels safest when he is in jail, which is most of the time.  Her brother, equally brilliant, has gone the way of the father – drugs and jail and aimlessness.  He is one of “my kids” too, and always will be.  B.’s mother has been her stability and her rock.  The mother has been in and out of the hospital for as long as I have known the family (13+ years).  Much of the hospitalization has been the result of trauma from the abuse but in the last year the hospitalizations have taken on a different tone.  B.’s notes to me via facebook have been “Mom’s sick.  They don’t know what’s wrong….  She has an infection.  They can’t find the cause.” 
  Today B. walked into the library, her eyes brimming.  She said, “Cathy, I need a hug.”  “Of course.”  The sobs came for real then.  “Tell me,” I said.  “She’s dying.  Mom’s dying.  What do I need to do?”  She wanted practical, sure advice.  She needed to make a list.  She needed to sit, and collect a stack of books to read on break, and laugh, and listen.  So we made a list….transfer the car into her name, call the funeral home, find out about life insurance, talk to the college about housing (She’s been living at home.)  And the list goes on.  She felt better when she left, with a list of things to do.
  And for all the frustrations, and length, and whining, this is one of those days when I know why I listen to them and talk to them and care about them.  Because the library is more than books and computers.  It’s a safe place to cry.
  And so it goes.

  • 8:27 pm
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