Everyone has that special place.
Thinking back on all the vacations I’ve taken over the years, I’ve always stumbled upon at least one decorated book shelf, full of dog-eared paperbacks, old entertainment magazines, and once in awhile, a few uncompleted Jumble books. Sometimes there’s a sign proclaiming it to be the ‘Island’s Largest Library,’ or ‘Rocky’s Room,’ named, I’d imagine, after the large black and gray mutt snoring in the corner. I’ve just thought of them as vacation waystations—pause points where I can reassess my beach book, and make sure there isn’t a better choice waiting before me. It’s not that I can’t choose a good book to dive into, or that I’ll always find that magical, long sought-after but never found, out-of-print literary masterpiece at the heart of a ten-year search. No—for me it’s the implied invitation to browse, take what I like, and maybe leave something in return.
My neighborhood has a special place as well.
It’s right next to the Free Corner (more about that in a later post), and it was created by one of the neighbors at Island Cove.
It has little doors that you can open and close, and any neighbor can put up a new poem any time. From Maya Angelou to Shel Silverstein, the sky’s the limit, not to mention the special surprise you get when walking down the dock, only to see that someone put up a new poem.
This is the latest poem.