A #book About #LOVE • visiting the #library #GanJingCampus #kindnessiscool #kids #frindship #family

Today I went to the new Logan Heights library looking for a special book. I parked a block away near their old historic library. It looks pretty small and run down. Just then a class of young children and their teacher walked by. They were so friendly. So this is the new library, so huge and beautiful. When I was a boy in the garden out front of the house where we lived, I asked my grandmother, what is love? My grandmother was old. I thought she would know. She picked me up in her arms and said, I can't answer that. Who can, I asked. If you go out into the world, you might find an answer. So I went. I asked the fisherman, what is love? The fisherman smiled. Love is a fish, he said. A fish? It glimmers and splashes just out of reach. And the day that you catch it, if you know what you're doing, you give it a kiss and throw it back into the sea. But I don't like fish, I said. They're slimy and taste bad and they have creepy eyes. The fisherman sighed. You do not understand. I asked the actor, what is love? The actor smiled. Love is applause. Applause? It's the hoots of the crowd, the sound of their hands. You stand in the footlights while they all scream your name. Sometimes they throw flowers. At that moment, you know you exist. You are seen. But the crowd leaves, I said. They go home. The actor sighed. You don't understand. I asked the cat, what is love? The cat smiled. Love is the night. The night, I said. That sounds all right. But before the cat could explain, a dog chased it away. Wait, I said. Stop. What is love? The dog looked back and said, this. I asked the carpenter, what is love? The carpenter smiled. Love is a house. A house? You hammer and saw and arrange all the planks. It wobbles and creaks and you alter your plans. But in the end, the thing stands and you live in it. I said, I'm not allowed to use hammers. Once I busted my thumbs. I don't mean a real hammer. I'm not talking about thumbs, he said. It got busted real bad, I said. The carpenter sighed. You don't understand. The farmer told me love is a seed. This soldier told me love is a blade. That soldier told me love is a horse. But the car driver said, no, it's a donkey. A sports car, a donut, a lizard, a ring, the first snow of winter, a maple in summer, a grizzly bear, this pebble right here. These are all things people told me love is. I asked the poet, what is love? The poet smiled. Sit down and I'll tell you, he said. A list so long it goes on for pages. I didn't have time to listen to that. Wait, said the poet. I have not answered your question. You sure haven't, I said. The poet shouted at me. You don't understand. And so one day I returned to the house where we lived. The lights were all on. I smelled dinner cooking. My dog barked gladly at me from a window upstairs. I took off my shoes and stood in the garden. I curled my toes so they dug into the dirt. I didn't hear my grandmother come up behind me. Finally, she said, you have come back. She was older. I was taller. She asked me, did you answer your question? I picked her up in my arms. I smiled. I said, yes.