The Classics

I remember the day you first asked me about literature. I listed some classics and while you recognized them, you weren't sure what they were about. That evening, I took you to the local library and sat you down in the lobby. I rushed around the stacks of books, some new and others collecting dust. I grabbed book after book and brought them to you with a sparkle in my eye. When I saw your face, though, I became nervous. You stood up, grabbed half the books and reminded me not to hurt myself. We sat down and I picked up each book and gave you a brief summary of each, letting you set aside those you may want to read for yourself. Sometimes, I struggled to give an accurate depiction of a novel and you chuckled and told me it was okay, you understood the point. I was worried you'd think my enthusiasm for books and literature silly or useless. However, when we left, it was with a pile of twenty-three books and a long "To Read" list. You kissed me and thanked me for the help. That was the last day I hid my excitement from you.