Books

"Dad, can you take me to the library?"

I don't know if my son can imagine, at his age, how much joy that question brings me.  Clutching a small stack, he told me that he was finished with all of his books from our last run, and needed more.

So off to the library we went.  I made my usual side turn just inside the door to see if there were any worthy books for sale.  I often find at least one the library is cutting loose, but today was not the day.  I then went to find Jake, who already had three books tucked under his arm and was busily searching for more.

I debated just shadowing him.  I knew if I headed over to the religion/philosophy isle, I would bring something home.  I already have two from the library and barely have time for those.... why grab anymore?

"I'll just look," I tell myself.

Through the rows I see many old friends, a few I am beginning to know, and some I would like to meet.  Marcus Borg, Karen Armstrong, the latest by David Dark.... I am always amazed at what a good selection they have.... Hitchens, been enjoying his Vanity Fair articles, I need to read something by him.... skip past the televangelist stuff to other faiths.... the Dali Lama.... what? no Thich Nhat Hahn? ... must be all checked out...

A tug at my elbow...

"Dad, are you ready?"

Jake is a young reader.... very task oriented.... he has his books and is ready to go.

That's ok.... he is just beginning.... someday he will savor these isles, pause at the pages, lose himself in their presence .....

His stack has grown to eight and we head to the check out.  We place the nine books on the conveyor (did anyone think I could resist?) and grab our receipt.  Outside a gentle rain is falling.  Jake is bent over as he walks.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I have to protect the books," he says without looking up.

How did I get so blessed?