Tonight I worked my last shift at the library. I went through the duties as I had the weeks prior, but this time I knew it would be the last time. I'm going to miss that place.
The Awakening, by Michael Carroll was the last book I checked it--thought I'd take a picture of it. I only began the job last April, but it feels like I've been there longer. Not in a "it's a bad job so it feels like I've worked there forever" kind of way, but in a "I've gotten to know some great people and had a wonderful time doing it" kind of way.
Decisions are made based on benefit vs. sacrifice. There were many benefits to the job. I worked with amazing people. The patrons were fantastic. And I was surrounded by books--that's like crack cocaine for an aspiring author, especially when some of the books you check out are written by friends. That's a cool feeling--imagine if those books were mine.
Being surrounded by books is a double-edged sword. And all those benefits are overshadowed by the fact that when I'm at work, I can't write. I've written so little since beginning that job, and seeing all those books only reminded me of what is possible, what can be done. It's as if the words teased and mocked as well as encouraged and showed glimpses of what could be--all at the same time.
Because of some things that happened, I no longer need to do the second job, at least for now. Maybe one day I'll return, maybe not. But if I never do I'll always remember my time at the library fondly. Thank you for the opportunity. I'm glad I took it. I'm going to miss that place.