I got back to the library with a only a few hours left of my shift. Polly was distraught and actually hugged me when I walked through the door.

“I thought I’d never see you again! Are you okay? Tell me everything!”

I did, and by the time I finished, the work day was, too. Polly had gradually calmed down and hesitantly agreed her imagination might have run a bit too far. I scolded her. That was what she got for haunting the stacks that held mystery fiction. Perhaps she should stick to non-fiction like the rest of us with both feet planted solidly on the ground.

Polly had evening plans, so I told her I’d lock up. I went to the desk for the key and noticed some returned books stacked to the side. I might as well get a head start on tomorrow’s work and put them away.

I replaced a Jan Karon book and a worn Daniel Defoe. I glanced down at the last two books in my hand . . . How to Build a Compost and Autolysis. My heart skipped a beat. Nobody reads that fast. When had Stuart Demone even returned them? I hurried to the back stacks to put them away. Locking up quickly suddenly seemed like a good idea.

As I scanned the shelves, I felt slightly faint. What was this? A Complete History of the Alaskan Pyramids and Heaven’s Water by none other than Stuart Demone. I pulled them both from the shelf, backed into a chair where I sat and began to read. A Complete History of the Alaskan Pyramids discussed some of what Mr. Demone had described at Ground Zero. It was intriguing to say the least. Even Polly would have a hard time believing what I read. Time passed too quickly, so I decided to take both books home with me. I didn’t check them out.

Once I’d had a light supper, I settled into my most comfortable chair and picked up Heaven’s Water. It was amazing! The book spoke of bright water whose color was a sort of azure and turquoise with glints of pink and green. The author said it was impossible to describe in this world. I rubbed both hands over my scrunched face. What? He went on to say that it bubbled and rippled; that one could sink underneath the surface and still breathe; and that its delightful sensations tingled and refreshed, healed and energized.

I read until the moon was high in the sky and continued until the sun peeked over the horizon. It felt like an hour.

I couldn’t get enough. Too soon I reached the last page. Inscribed in the author’s own hand was a note. To me! I shakily pulled it out and read:

Life is not as average as it appears. Around every corner is something unseen, in every person is a hidden treasure yet to be revealed, and time holds more promise than anyone understands. Yet there is given to those of us who have stepped from this world to the next an opportunity to share what we are learning here: history hidden from most, science yet undiscovered, and beauty indescribable and unattainable to the most gifted artist. So when you see something out of order – for instance, winter’s sleet in the spring – it is then that a few of us are instructed to step back over the portal and share some of the work we enjoy in heaven’s realms with those still bound to the misunderstandings of earth. You are not unglamorous! You are treasured.

-S.D.

P.S. Great boots!

I called in sick to work. I needed time to think. I wandered to the window  – maybe I would take a walk. The spring day was as beautiful as I’d ever seen. I pulled on my new boots and stepped out the door.

. . . and then it began to sleet.

Water idea from Intra Muros, c. 1898, by Rebecca Ruter Springer, David C. Cook Publishing Co.