From The Joan Ganz Coony Center:
My hand tightly grasping my mother’s, I cautiously approached the low table and scanned its crowded top, gasping with a mix of delight and nervousness when I saw what my almost four-year-old self had been yearning for for what seemed like a lifetime: a crisp lined yellow card with a long piece of hot pink yarn attached at the two top corners, and my first name emblazoned in big black letters across the front. Proof that I was finally old enough to attend my library’s kids-only “Story Hour!” With the fuzzy yarn now tickling my neck, I apprehensively but resolutely left my mother and younger sister behind for the first time and followed a group of other yellow-card-bearers down a dark staircase into a bright, cool, cheery room, where a smiling librarian welcomed each and every one of us by name and invited us to sprawl out on a lush carpet. Books of all sizes, shapes, and colors were everywhere: stacked in several small child-sized bookcases, strewn across the floor, piled up haphazardly on the only chair, perched on the lowest steps. “What should we read today?” the librarian sang while sweeping one arm from right to left, and in spite of my lingering worry about how I’d find my way back to my mother, I knew in that moment I didn’t want to be anywhere else but right there.
Continue reading at the Joan Ganz Coony Center.
Image source Joan Ganz Coony Center.