prologue to a dream

Black rubber on white marble, both colors worn with the exertion of the city around them. Slow footsteps make small sounds of relief: whew, whew.

“Why are you laughing?” smirks the security guard. My demeanor may be misplaced in this place, an hour before opening, its pall quieter than usual.

I am usually so cautious with my words, but these clamber out of my chuckling before I can think: “Because I am happy. I am excited.” I turn to regard the massive rotunda shining in the morning light, and something so much larger than my heart flutters, then settles.

The automatic door exhales me onto the damp street. The next time I enter, it will be a years-long dream realized: the first day of my tenure at the San Francisco Public Library.

Published by Halsted M. Bernard

An ever-molting black swan. Reader, writer, library director, over-enunciator. Listening + Unlearning. Opinions are my own. She/her. #BlackLivesMatter

8 thoughts on “prologue to a dream

  1. Yay for you, I’m certain it will be much better to anticipate rather the waiting to hear that you’ve been doing! I’m so happy for you!

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