You know when someone calls you out of nowhere and you wonder what’s going on? Well, my mother never asks me for help with anything. She was sitting in my room with cherry wood boards spread out sporadically. She held little plastic bag of silver hardware in one hand and a screw driver in the other.
“I need help.” I didn’t know what she wanted me to do. I looked at her for a second and we both laughed. We both knew that we had no idea how to assemble pieces of wood together.
I looked for the little packet that specified what we had to do. I mainly looked for it just to see what the final product had to look like. I did what everyone else usually did. I winged it. My mom and I just attached planks that looked like it would fit together
After a bunch of twisting and turning and lifting, I had a dark wood bookshelf in the corner of my room. It was like a huge shadow that overcastted the room. It wasn’t just the carpet that darkened the room, it was now my bookshelf. I rarely ever go into my room because of the dull haziness. Since I’m never in there, I didn’t know what I would use this bookshelf for.
I didn’t know where my mom found or even stored all of these books, magazines, and yearbooks, but they all ended up aligned on my new bookshelf.
She organized the shelves by type of literature and the date. I was looking at the timeline of yearbooks, picture books, chapter books and classic cults. It amazed me how my mom kept all of these books. I found it humorous. She kept all of these books that I have never read once.