A couple of days ago I commented on the pleasure Kate had gotten over the discovery of a book that I thought had belonged to her mother, Birds of Wington. Since then it had remained on the floor board of the passenger’s side of the car. This afternoon we made a stop by the pharmacy to pick up a couple of things. Kate remained in the car while I went inside. When I returned, she was looking at the book again, just the way she had done the other day. It was like seeing it for the first time.
It is a cold, rainy day, and Kate has been coughing. I told her I would build a fire in the fireplace, and she could look at the book a little more if she wanted. She did. While she was brushing her teeth, I took a look at the title page and found a note her other had written. It said that it had been given to Kate on her 11th birthday from a friend and used for three months in church for Sunday school lessons. For the past 25 minutes, she has been going through the book from front to back. As she looked at it, she kept saying, “This is wonderful.” “This is priceless.” “ This is a treasure.” She tried, and did, read a few sentences to me though it was a struggle. She mostly picked out a few of the Chapter names. Several times she mentioned “Birds of the Bible,” one of the early chapters. Each time it was as though it were the first time. I know this would seem a little thing to many, but I take great pleasure in her pleasure. I’m sure many a caregiver can identify with that.
