It is a strange kind of day here in the space that we usually share as a township and elementary school library.  There is an unexpected day off of school and the building as a whole is unusually quiet for a Wednesday during the school year.   We are a different kind of busy here today.  Several adults are dawdling at the public access computers.  One man, amazed that he found a parking space right up front, has spent the morning with us, looking up from the computer every now and again to engage the staff in conversation.  A teenager on his day off from school is here in the library (in a school, no less!) crafting jewelry at a table filled with leftover supplies from a program last week.  Before he leaves, he shows us what he has made and shares that he intends to give it to his girlfriend.  He wants our opinion on whether or not the necklace is girlfriend worthy, which, of course, it is.   Several other teens come in to check out handfuls of movies and music.  The school principal has stopped in to say that she has come in to get some work done in her office.  She is very glad we are here with her. Patrons wander in and out in surprise that we actually SOUND like a library today, even though the bell system, controlled by a computer that does not realize that no children are here, continues to sound recess and lunch hours.  Only one staff member works with me today and we duly have our noon meal at what would normally be middle lunch period.  We have both brought a sack lunch given the fact that the school cafeteria is closed.  We eat together at a table near the circulation desk so we can take turns waiting on patrons.  Patrons ask amusingly if we have brought lunch for them, too.  We point to the platter of cookies out on the counter, leftover from a program last night.  They willingly help themselves.  Several parents come in with their kids looking to pass some part of the day.  Puzzles and architectural blocks are scattered across the floor.  A very small child is looking for the basket of cars and trucks we put out in the summer.  Cruz pulls it from the storage closet so he can play with it.  The patron who has spent the day with us has a question - do we know the words to a song that include "Jeremiah was a bullfrog?"  Before long,  he and I are singing in the library, perhaps trying to fill the void of noise that is usually close to a loud din.  Who puts a library next to a music room anyway???  Come to think of it, it is a perfect pairing, since patrons and staff LOVE listening to the sounds of music that come from the next room.  While I am singing with the patron,  Cruz looks on with a quizzical look - have I lost it or what?  She, at eighteen, does not remember the song.  The patron says I have made his day, but I know he has made mine.  More kids make their way in.  They have been playing on the playground.  Why are we here, they want to know.  Although they seem truly glad that we are.  It is quiet again - just Cruz and I.  I work at my desk on my computer.  Cruz checks in items and shelves.  We chat softly about her plans for spring break and her college classes.  The dismissal bell sounds, even though we are still open for another hour and a half.  We miss the noise.  We miss the students.  We miss the busyness that is our library.  We look forward to tomorrow when we are once again the noisest place in town.