Monday, March 19, 2007

Three Silly Monkeys

Jake read to me tonight.

About the Fox and the Box.

Two years ago? He read to me. I thought the reading bridge had been crossed and we would soon be onto chapter books.

It wasn’t. He stopped. He became scared, uncertain and stepped back from reading. I have always been a reader. I love books. Deeply. As a child, I would go to the library with my friend and her mom and take out a stack of books every week. A couple mythology books- I always loved Greek mythology. A science fiction- my favorite was Ray Bradbury; my friend’s was Isaac Asimov. And some kind of quest book- too many to list. Never less than five, always limited to seven. We had to carry them all by ourselves to the car.

I thought the library was church. People were quiet because the beauty before them was awesome.

I still do.

Jake loves the Hardy Boys Mysteries. But he can’t read them.

We’re reading House on the Cliff. Smugglers and a bad guy named Snattman. We always read the Hardy Boys after he struggles through the readers his teacher sends home.I read aloud and not only Jake hangs around to hear the story. Ben and Zachary are always pretty close by.

Tonight? Jake read the stack of readers. All of them.

He laughed about the Fox and the Box. He caught the change of words, direction when the box was on top of the fox.

Silly fox.

He brought over a “D” book and said, this is going to be hard.

And he read all but two words. I held my thumb over half of each and he got it.

My silly, stupid drama. I’m worried about being a bad person, about not doing things the right way. I think I’ve done so much wrong I cannot live anymore.

And then my son reads to me.


The golden light I so need? I so crave?

Was sitting in my lap tonight reading “Three Silly Monkeys.”


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