A new love in the library

Two kids held hands in the library. They sat across the table, each with a book open but not paying any mind. Lost in each other's eyes. 

I had that sick sweet feel in my gut. Young love, a long ago memory. 

A couple entered the library. He had a little cane, she had the bag of books to return. He held her hand, gripped it tight for balance. Maybe not just balance his feet.

That gut feeling got stronger. Established love, comfort and solace in knowing someone would be there when you woke.

"Excuse me, I need to check these out," said a woman with a baby on her hip. The baby pawed at her hair, a lock firm in its toothless mouth.

A wrenching in my stomach. Familial love, the kind that binds and lasts long after death. The love that builds good and bad habits.

"Hello?" the mother said. A man walked behind her holding a toddler's hand. The little girl had a copy of "Cat in the Hat" she handed to the mother.

The burning joy inside bubbled over. Parents and children, bonds not wasted but grown through activities together. 

"She wants to… are you okay?" she said.

"Yeah, you seem a little off," the man said.

Tears burned in my eyes. Caring for another, a human connection. This family saw me, thought of my own well being. A stranger across the void.

"Oh my god, I think he's having a stroke," she said.

"I'll call an ambulance."

As they loaded me into the truck thing with the men who talked words fireworks bang no mommy taco hunger, "The Cat in the Hat," I said.

"I think he's disassociating, this is weird. Not a stroke, I don't think," the truck man say word to truck. Truck go.

The library squeezes love and joy and kindness in all forms all the way to the hospital.

ST Harker

January 1, 2023