Slice of Life Tuesdays #190910.
She bounces through the backdoor, holding a gift bag by its chocolate brown ribbon handles. Pink it is — trimmed at its bottom edge in brown with rows of white polka dots the size of the punched holes of loose-leaf paper forming the soil for straight-stemmed magical flowers that covered the rest of the bag. Shades of pink tissue cascade out of its top.
EM, in her summer between kindergarten and first grade, full of gift-excitement, stops just in front of me, “It’s for you, Gramma.”
“Me?” I look at her mother.
I’m thinking, It’s August?
Mother’s Day was in May?
My birthday isn’t until September?
My daughter explains, “It’s part of your Mother’s Day gift. I was waiting for it to be released.”
I reach into the bag, past the soft pink tissue and feel the form of a book.
My daughter continues, “It’s his newest. The Pioneers.”
EM pipes up, “It’s a book, Gramma!”
Slowly I remove the book from the bag. Pink tissue paper floats to the floor. My eyes travel over the cover — the author (my favorite historian) and the illustration (a flat river boat … people and animals and Old Glory with its stars in a circle … floating between forested foothills) and the subtitle beneath the title (“the heroic story of the settlers . . .”).
“I LOVE books.” I say to EM who’s standing beside me still bubbling with gift-excitement.
She chirps back, “That’s why you have so many.”
Her mother and I exchange smiles. Just last year, EM told her mother, “Gramma’s house is a library.”
“Do you love books?” I ask her.
“I like READING!”
In just three words, she shares with me her newest treasure.
Slice of Life Tuesdays
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