When school let out for summer, many of my classmates packed their bags for beaches, road trips, and Disneyland. But in my family, vacations were a luxury we couldn’t afford every year. There were no suitcases by the door, no plane tickets stuck to the fridge.

Instead, I had something else—something that, in many ways, gave me just as much adventure: a library card.

As a member of Generation X, I had the freedom to roam the neighborhood and play with friends until dinnertime. We spent hours outdoors, inventing games and letting our imaginations run wild—no electronics required. Fortunately for me, the library was just 0.2 miles from our home. That meant during the summer, I could walk there by myself nearly every day.

It felt like stepping into another world. The quiet hush of the building, the scent of paper and possibility—it was a kind of magic that didn’t cost a cent. I had a favorite corner where I’d settle in and read for hours. With every book I borrowed, I traveled somewhere new. I crossed deserts on camelback, solved mysteries in foggy London, and lived in castles, forests, and faraway planets. My heart traveled, even when my feet didn’t.

Libraries became my passport, my travel agent, my escape. While others posed for photos in front of monuments, I fell in love with characters who felt more real than some people I knew. I learned to see the world through different eyes—through stories that were rich, expansive, and full of life.

This ritual became my summer tradition from elementary school through high school. When our family moved, I found the nearest library, picked a new spot in the aisles, and continued my adventures.

Looking back, I don’t feel like I missed out. I feel like I gained something deeper: an imagination sharpened by curiosity, a mind stretched by words, and a heart expanded by stories that taught me empathy, resilience, and hope.

Books gave me more than vacations ever could—they gave me perspective. And the library gave me a place to grow when life felt small, uncertain, or tough.

So no, I didn’t spend my childhood on planes or in hotels. I spent it in libraries. And I wouldn’t trade those “booked” summers for anything.