My Father's Books

My Father´s Books

 by Pablo Z.

When I was a little kid, my father kept his books on a pale wooden desk under the

staircase. Some nights after dinner, he would grab one of them and read for
about an hour or two until he lost the fight against sleep.

His books varied from old science fiction
novels to even older poetry compilations. In the corner, there laid dusty
engineering bibles from his college years once upon a time.

If you paid close attention, the glorified
bookshelf told a story all by itself, it wasn´t written, though; and maybe
that´s why when I was little my eyes never got to read it, but I think I get it

It was a story about the son of a car
mechanic who could barely afford college, not even mention the textbooks
needed, which he valued more than anything, therefore they were always safe, neat
and well kept, no bent corners, no coffee stains.

It also told the story about a guy who fell
head over heels for a girl who loves art and literature, hence all the stolen
poetry books from the community library still keeping a faded “Please return
with care” stamp.

Today, ten years later, it´s a different
bookshelf, different books, different story, and I guess it wouldn´t be much a surprise
to say it´s a different man.

His bookshelf is now two whole rooms with
an oak grid for walls filled with more books a lifetime desires, they are
always finely ordered, nearly immaculate. He now has thousands of books, from
pocket sized short story collections to enormous encyclopedias. From many of the
newest releases to one or two incunables from the late 15th century.

My father is very indecisive when it comes
to books, he can never choose which one is his favorite, and when you ask him which
one is it, he will always respond the same thing: It´s the one under my nose.

Two silent rooms remain now in my house,
filled to the brim with wisdom just sitting still waiting to be discovered,
like an old man eager to tell his stories to anyone willing to listen.

Thanks to my father and his books, my
family is now in possession of life´s sharpest weapon: knowledge. A protection
towards the gravest sin: ignorance. And the cheapest way to travel: literature.

So, when one day, God forbid, my father is
no longer with us, my brother and I will always have his books to remember who
he was: the guy who cared and kept them safe. Ultimately, we will understand
that we were his favorite books under his nose, the ones he cared and safeguarded
the most and thanks to his library and enormous collection of books, through
pages and chapters he will continue to teach us lessons about family,
friendship, love and life.

View pablozaragozab's Full Portfolio