Today St. Nick, who is seven and technically in first grade, cajoled me into taking him and his siblings to the library. This was our conversation on the drive there:
Him: Mom, do you know why I like going to the library so much?
Me: (Slightly irritable - I didn't really want to drag out in the rain and Mud Pie had a fashion meltdown on the way out the door) To get movies?
Him: Nope.
Me: Really? (Truly surprised) Then why?
Him: Well, I do like the DVDs but I love the books too. Want to know why?
Me: Sure.
Him: The books are sort of like movies, only better. When I read them I make pictures in my head and it's just like watching a movie but without having to watch it.
Me: (Momentarily speechless)
Him: Yup. I use my imagination. It's really powerful and I can see the stories just like movies. So that's why I like the library so much.
Me: (Still speechless)
This has been one of the greatest privileges of motherhood. I labored with St. Nick over letters and sounds, over sound bingo and Bob Books and the laborious sounding out of word after word. There were times I doubted my ability to teach this most fundamental skill, and doubted his ability to learn. Times when I suspected the dozen or more books he keeps squirreled beneath his pillow were there just for the pictures.
And now I know they were - but not the pictures drawn with graphite or a brush, but those created within. Within his mind, and ultimately, within his soul.
To see this dawn in him is to witness a miracle. I understand a little better what might feel like to look down from the heavens and see that the world is good.
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