The Frosty Book

by Sherry Richert Belul
California, USA

The Frosty Book

Kayne wants a Frosty book. Let’s ask the librarian, I said. We walked hand in hand to the librarian’s desk. An older gentleman I’ve never seen is sitting there. He gave us a warm, wide smile.

Could you please tell us if you have any books about snowmen, I asked. Kayne jumped in, “FROSTY the snowman.”

The man smiled even more broadly, clasped his hands together and said, “Frosty, why yes. Let’s see what we can do for you.” He beckons us behind the desk to see the computer.

He types in “Frosty” and many records pop up. I’m relieved. But they’re all DVDs or CDs. Not one book. Kayne’s face starts to cloud over. The librarian looks at Kayne, “Don’t worry, son. I don’t give up easily when it comes to books.” He exits the library system and clicks on Amazon; I assume to research books.

Maybe he’ll recommend I purchase one, or buy one for the library?

He claps his hands excitedly, turns to Kayne and says, “I’d like to buy you a Frosty book. OK?” Kayne nods his head and I’m so close to tears it hurts my throat.

I want to tell this man Kayne’s grandfather lives in Florida and hasn’t seen my son since he was a baby. I want to tell him about my awful day at work. How I’ve longed for a large extended family. To tell him we live on a street where homeless people wearily push large carts of cans and bottles.

I want to tell him I’m exhausted from trying to be a good mother, make money, lose five pounds and take the cats to the vet. That I’ve been so sad, who knows why even, and despite my best intentions, I’ve grown into the type of woman who expects the worst from strangers.

I expect the worst … and this man I’ve never seen, with gentle eyes and sweet smile, has just bought my son a book. And he’s patiently helping Kayne type his name. Kayne holds each letter down so it types twenty of itself… and this man laughs each time and erases the extra letters like a game.

All I can muster, is “Thank you, you’re so kind.” Kayne smiles happily, “Sanks. Will the book come tonight when we get home?”

“It’ll seem like a long time, but it will come, maybe in a week.” He adds, “You two are lucky are to have one another.” I hold Kayne’s hand and wave goodbye and wish I weren’t too shy to say, “Yes, and lucky to have met you today.”

I wish I could tell him what his $14 really just bought.


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Originally published as HeroicStories #640 on Nov 22, 2005

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