Recently, our entire family has been obsessed with the book: The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore.
|Thank you La-la for the super cool book!|
Normally, I GREATLY DISLIKE euphemisms. I just want to roll my eyes and yell: "Tell it like it is! Be real! Use the correct terminology! Stop sugarcoating things!" Well, predictably having children has softened my rigid heart of stone.
(Since neighbor Al died, I am much more open to euphemisms because I needed to explain to Mini #1 where Al was. I feel it has been more challenging because Al was not that old. He was not noticeably ill and he was still out and about around the yard when the weather was nice.)
In the book, Morris Lessmore was a young man who was wandering aimlessly when he found a comfortable niche as a caretaker of books in a library. In his free time, Morris wrote in his own book. Each day "he wrote of his joys and sorrows, of all that he knew and everything he hoped for."
One day, Morris “wrote the last page in his book.” The books were sad, but they understood. It was time for Morris to move on.
Dedicated to Al and Eddie, who wrote the last pages in their books. May you be peacefully drifting through the sky carried along by a festive squadron of whatever makes you happy.
|Upon further investigation - this is not at all what this book was intended to be about. |
However, this book brings me peace and it's my blog... so "whatever"