Option Paralysis.
This only happens to me when I go to Duty Free in Clark. I didn’t believe it would happen to me anywhere else until yesterday.
I went to the 29th Manila International Book Fair and I got lost in the midst of all the freakin books and yes…I was immediately struck by option paralysis.
The fair is being held on all four halls of the building…which meant excruciating pain on your feet after 30 minutes of walking or let me put it another way…after 30 minutes of going against a sea of warm bodies. My eyes got tired of browsing through all the titles.
I overheard one teenager blurt out: ‘Books are abound!!!’ Honey, that is supposed to be the case.
I was able to get myself a couple of poetry books, one by Merlinda Bobis and another by Rio Alma. The moment I stepped inside the building, I told myself that I would never leave that place empty handed. It took me some time to get books of my interest but it was all worth it.
As expected, the stuff that I buy these days end up getting stacked on my bookshelves. I don’t know. I have a lot many books at home that I haven’t really read. I keep buying books because I love to read. It is my passion. For some reason I feel like if I cannot read all that I have on my bookshelf, the same books will serve solace when I am old (or older).
But the highlight of my day yesterday wasn’t the book fair (though I had a blast).
It was my nephew Botchok.
I got him a copy of Time’s 2008 Kids Almanac. I got home around 6:15 pm. He was the one who opened the door for me. I told him that I got him something and when he saw the book his face lit up and I know I just made his day.
I went to my room and tried to sort my ‘library.’ He came in and asked me for an envelope and a piece of paper. I gave him what he asked for and went back to arranging my books (by the way, I usually arrange my books per author but I am thinking of arranging them per genre. But that would make me look so OC).
After a few minutes, he knocked and handed me something. He scribbled my name on this little orange envelope. When I opened it, I saw the paper I gave him. He drew a house and wrote his name under it. Maybe he meant that he has found a home in me, a home in us…my mom and my sister.
I swear my eyes cried baby tears for his gesture of gratitude. I am a little teary eyed as I am writing this.
And that’s when I was reminded that the best things in life aren’t things. The best things we can ever have in our lives are people and moments.
When he’s old enough, I would want for him to read this.
I want for him to know that the very reason why I started collecting books is so that he’ll have good materials to read when he grows up (I would imagine him writing a review about 100 years of solitude for his Fourth Grade book report…or recite Again, Nocturne in front of his Sixth Grade class).
And I want to let him know that he is one of the best things that ever happened to our family. And that he is and will always be a part of our family.
Thank you, Botchok. As much as you think I made your day, you emphatically made mine too.
You are one of the reasons why I keep believing that I am a good person. You are one of the reasons I know I can never give up.
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