the michell

three of you have already read this.

My mother’s favorite thing about Glasgow was the Michell library. Nearly every morning, and usually at least one other time during the day, a visit was paid to the library- ostensibly to use the internet since mine wasn’t running yet- but usually to eat at the café (“Look! They have a café in the library! Isn’t that great?”), or listen to the musicians playing (“Oh my gosh, Kirsten, can you believe that they have a string quartet playing in the library? I think that’s wonderful”), or look at the art (“You have to come see this art”).

I came home from a tour of the University of Glasgow’s library during orientation week and sat down, ripped off my shoes, and promptly began rubbing my sore feet- which were beginning to complain more quickly each day from walking miles up and down hills in $10 sneakers from Target that were ripping on the sides. I looked up to see her smiling. Glowing.
“So… what did you do while I was gone?”
“I visited my library”
“You love that library”
“I do love it. It’s a place of wonder and imagination.”
“Oh, wow, mom.”
“And magic.”
“Ok, don’t go overboard”
“No, it is! It’s magical! It’s inspiring.”
“Ok, but seriously.”
“I took a picture of the bathroom,” she said as she walked out of the room into the hallway.

I sat up as this processed and looked at her retreating form.
We had been in The UK for almost a week now.
“You haven’t taken any pictures of the apartment. You haven’t taken a single picture of the city.”
“I know, but it was so wonderful…”
“OR ME, mom, you haven’t taken any pictures of me, but you took a picture of the BATHROOM of the library”
“You’re going to come with me and let me show you how wonderful it is, aren’t you?”




update:
tl;dr version: my mom is funny. the library is cool.