Beautiful!
The way you write brings everything to life...
My books are my treasures, and I have floor to ceiling bookcases (all full) in the living room.
There are several other bookcases full, as well.
I loved the part about you sounding out words, that reminded me of my own Dad, teaching me how to speak our Acadian tongue...
I remember trying to say "Papillion" but could only manage to say "Pappy-Johns."
He got a tremendous kick out of that, and everyone in the family called them "Pappy-johns" after that.
He is lost now, in his dementia, but while I sit and hold his hands, I carry those sweet times in my heart.
My best to you..
Ms.B
Fathers are like the forgotten, fallow fields where the seeds they planted lie dormant for many years until one night, when the moon is full and a soft rain comes slowly trickling down the cheeks of memory's fading face to fill the field.
At first with splatters and then a fitful flood, till the dawn discloses diamonds and emeralds; the flowers of a sudden Spring.