Lorna the Librarian

Someone asked me, “Where are our children going?” and I answered, “ I am not sure. I see them jump, laugh, hit; I see them hug. They are going where we have all gone before and after.”

 Then someone said, “We’ll make a better place.”

 “Yes,” I said.

 “You mean like those children over there, sitting still, each alone?”

 “Sure,” he said.

 “For certain,” she said.

 I left.

 I closed my eyes. I rubbed them. I walked for a time and then a time again.

 “Dare I look?” I asked.

 I took off my cap, looked and cried.

 I dried my eyes and returned to my bookcase and took down Leaves of Grass and read it over and over again.

 In several years, I gave it to my granddaughter.

 I said, “ this is your school, absorb.”

 She laughed and threw it to the wind and the leaves reached heaven.

 I said, “throw it to the wind and watch it return on angels’ wings.”

 She smiled and it did in seconds with open pages for open hearts.

 Someone asked me, “Where are our children going?” and I answered, “ I am sure. I see them jump, laugh, hit; I see them hug. They are going where we have all gone before and after.”