A Precious Gift

A Precious Gift

Education has always been considered very important in my family. Prior to the earliest time I can remember I am told that my mother and father read to me nightly. My family has a deep background in books, my father being a collector, and my mother working at a library. My father loves books, in every way I can think of. He loves to read them, as do the rest of my family, but he has a collector's interest in books that we lack.

He once wondered to a local library to check if they had a book sale. They did indeed have a book sale, and he bought quite a many books from their shelves. Soon he became a volunteer, and then the organizer, and soon had his own key to the library.

As the relationship between my father and I goes, I started going with him to the book sale. I loved reading and I helped him a little also. We discovered that the special semiannual book sale was coming up. I came with my dad that morning and we began carrying boxes of books out to the tables. We observed a tag sale across from us that apparently went hand in hand with our sale.

I was given the job of collecting money, and the day was going well, for we had already made nearly four hundred dollars for the library. At one point a small boy began his ascent up the small hill from the tag sale. He was only seven or eight by my estimate, and went directly to the table marked 'children.' After a minute or two he had found four or five books that he liked, put them in a neat pile and started his way back down the hill to the tag sale.

Nearly a minute later he came back with a rather sad look on his face.

"What's the matter?" I asked him as he took the pile and placed the books back on the table. He shrugged and I pushed.

"You don't want those books?" I asked. I could tell he was shy. We already had something in common.

"No, I can't get them."

"Oh? Why not?" I asked. I could sense that he wanted them.

"Because my mother won't give me the money for the 'stupid books.