Ruth Weeks was my elementary school librarian from fourth through sixth grade, and to me she was the guardian of all possible worlds. I would wander into her realm on a regular basis, lose myself in what seemed like endless shelves of possibility and emerge, burdened with glorious fiction, to present myself for her approval—which of course she always gave.

I’ve come across many librarians in my life, but Mrs. Weeks stands out to this day. She always encouraged my reading and my writing, and I spent many wonderful minutes in her presence perusing the Nancy Drew section (I checked out every single Nancy Drew book on offer at that library); eating Munchkin doughnuts from Dunkin’ Donuts (always the chocolate glazed) while enjoying a Magic School Bus book during a morning book club; or volunteering there after getting my work done in class, racing down the hallways eager to learn from her how to shelve books and the intricacies of the card catalogue (which was, of course, an actual physical mass of drawers full of cards when I was a kid).

My love of reading was well on its way by fourth grade, but Mrs. Weeks utterly cemented it, and libraries still hold a magic for me today, as a 37-year-old, that I am now passing on to my own children. It is the very least I can do for my very favorite librarian, who passed away in May 2020. I’m happy that she knew how much she meant to me, as we kept in touch long after I was grown through Christmas cards and the occasional written note. I even visited her on a trip back to my former stomping grounds when I was in college. I like to think she’s somewhere now, in whatever Great Beyond she chose (no doubt one with shelves and shelves of books), cheering me on in my literary pursuits and approving every story I bring home to read to my boys.

If I publish a book and it ends up in a library, that, to me, will be the highest accomplishment of my literary life.

Librarians are dragons, but to children dragons are magical, and so instead of dissuading entry to their domain they encourage it, drawing kids in to discover all the joy, all the magic, all the storytelling their hearts and minds can hold. Who else can make such a claim? Who else holds such a uniquely wonderful place in a child’s life?

Come in, the dragons say, and see all the possible worlds.