
Ever since I was a little kid I had seen the Shakespeare books in my parent's library. They were wonderful 1923 editions from Yale University. The kind of book binding you don't see anymore. I remember browsing them as a child and knowing how special they were.
Last month my parents decided to clean up the place and they told me whether I wanted the books. I inmediately said yes. I placed them in a bag and said I would take them to my apartment later. Well, I forgot about it for a month. And yesterday when I went to look for them, they were not there. The cleaning lady had mistook them for trash and had thrown them away.
I know it's silly to cry for books, but I felt such sorrow. This books are something I wanted to remember by father by. His love for reading. His love for Shakespeare. The thought of these books being taken away by a garbage truck was truly painful.
Well, I figured I should look for them. Maybe the garbage truck had not passed by my parent's house. I looked through all the bags. Nothing. Suddenly I looked in the bottom of a garbage can and there they were. I almost cried from the joy of it. The books were there.
I took them to my apartment today. I smelled their wonderful "old book" fragrance.
I was the happiest man on earth.