I am sending this dispatch from the thickly-quiet basement of the university library, ostensibly working, but mostly pondering Life {as awkward former English majors and chronic list-makers are apt to do}. My study table has been swallowed by a sea of half-graded student essays, and occasionally silence is punctuated by sudden, discordant hums from a man a few aisles away.

What is it he’s singing? Something only he knows.

Here is what I want to tell you about mulling life over while surrounded by very old, foil-spined library books: it makes one’s existence feel small, in a good way. From my wooden chair I stare into shelves of books about John Adams and Thomas Jefferson — I scarcely realized so many books about these men even existed — and multi-volume tomes titled Quasi-war with France, and suddenly every pain or joy seems comparatively manageable. I’m not running a country, for goodness’ sake. Human lives aren’t at risk based on my whims, which is good, because I don’t know how to make decisions uninformed by how many hot chocolates I’ve gulped in a given day. I don’t even bear the responsibility of a family, wiping noses and packing school lunches. It is me, alone — I am no one’s lobster or bird, but rather a single creaky heart and set of bones.

So how can that be too much to carry?

Another thing that puts life into perspective: elderly people playing checkers. Earlier in the week, Best Friend Grace and I trekked to Cracker Barrel for the kind of comfort only provided by french toast and meats smothered in gravy. Just outside the window, I watched an elderly woman and young boy playing checkers on the porch of the restaurant, except all I could see of the woman was a veiny, wiry hand occasionally appearing from behind the enormous rocking chair to gingerly move a game piece.

I thought, Now there’s a hand that knows what matters. You don’t end up in your seventies or eighties, I imagine, without a fair sense of perspective. You’ve loved, you’ve lost, and you know what? You still get to play games and eat at chain restaurants with boys. Every now and then, that has to be enough.

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