The Little Free Library on Sycamore Has Been Restocked by the Same Family for a Decade

On Sycamore Street, just past the intersection with Oak, there's a little wooden box on a post in front of a pale yellow house. It has a glass door, a shingled roof, and a hand-painted sign that says "Take a book, leave a book." It's a Little Free Library, one of thousands around the country, but this one has a story that's a little more specific than most.

The Whitaker family built it in the spring of 2014. Their daughter, Nora, was nine at the time and had just finished a school project about community reading. She asked her parents if they could put one in their yard. Her father, Dan, built it out of scrap wood from a remodeling job. Her mother, Priya, painted the sign. Nora stocked it with about twenty books from her own shelf.

Nora is 19 now and away at college. The library is still there. And Dan and Priya are still restocking it, usually on Sunday evenings, usually with books they've picked up at yard sales, library sales, and the used bookstore two towns over.

A Small Routine That Adds Up

I asked Priya how many books they've cycled through over the years. She said she has no idea, but she estimated it's in the thousands. The library holds about 30 books at a time. On a good week, half of them turn over. On a slow week, maybe five.

"We don't keep track," she said. "That would ruin it."

The selection is eclectic. There's usually a mix of children's books, paperback mysteries, a few literary novels, and whatever Dan has finished reading lately. He reads a lot of history and biography. Priya reads mysteries and the occasional romance. Nora, when she's home, adds whatever she's into at the moment, which lately has been poetry.

The library has become a small neighborhood institution. Kids stop by on their way to the bus. Adults walk over on weekend mornings. A retired teacher who lives two blocks away has become an unofficial co-steward, dropping off bags of books every few months without being asked.

There have been a few surprises. Once, someone left a first-edition hardcover of a novel from the 1940s, in good condition, with a note that said "I think this belongs here." Another time, someone left a handwritten journal — blank, never used — with a note that said "For whoever needs it." Priya kept that one. She said it felt wrong to put it back out.

Why They Keep Doing It

Dan said the library is the easiest thing he does all week. He spends maybe an hour on it — sorting, wiping down the box, checking the hinges, swapping in new titles. He said it's become a habit he doesn't want to break.

"It's a small thing," he said. "But it's a thing that's ours. And it's for everybody."

Nora, when I reached her by phone, said she's a little amazed it's still going. She thought her parents would let it fade after she left for school. They didn't.

"I think they like it more than I ever did," she said. "Which is fine. It was never really mine. It just started with me."

If you're on Sycamore Street, stop by. The door opens easily. Take something. Leave something. The Whitakers will restock it on Sunday.