Taboo! My Mom's Secret Library

Dear Mom,

You encouraged me to read from a young age. In the second grade, my teacher sent you a note that I had refused to read an assigned book, The Raven, for class. You sat with me and helped me complete the assignment and I learned to love to read. From that time forward we shared great books and discussed each often. Amidst the standard competition of three brothers reading became our thing.

The Eugenia Price historical novels were excellent and became a bond for us. You helped me understand Tolkien's The Hobbit and The Lord of the Ring Trilogy. We waited together for the release of Scarlet, the sequel to Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind, by Alexandra Ripley. You allowed me to read it first and we both thought it demeaned the original's quality.

The family library held hundreds of volumes from mystery to self-improvement, history to current events, sci-fi to classics. We shared them all. You taught me good books are the key to real education and you were right.

Yet, I have a secret to confess.

At the age of thirteen, I searched for a new book to indulge in. I wanted something fresh, and new. I didn’t desire to reread a book from the family library.

In my search, I entered your bedroom where you kept your current reads. This was taboo and violated the house rules to be present there without permission.

The books on your nightstand didn’t interest me but by happenstance, I noticed the edge of a paperback between your mattress and box spring. I pulled it out and discovered your secret stash. Dozens of books enlightened me, at thirteen, years ahead of my peers.

The Oxford dictionary of the day did little to help me understand my new found books. The experiential experience of reading your secret library and functional logic helped me understand a whole new vocabulary. The secret stash cleared my confused mind, and synced it with my developing body.

I learned about sex.

I feel confident that I returned the books exactly where I found them, and in the same condition. Well, there might have been a few exceptions.

It took me years to arrive at a full understanding of the knowledge gained from your secret library. Most importantly, I became enlightened to a world of closed information of the time and ahead of my peers. I am secretly grateful.

Being a parent myself now, I suspect that you are glad I never confessed while you were on this earth. I realized, through time, how fully human you were and how blessed I was to have you for my mom.

In the end, the incursion into your secret library of societal taboo material truly educated me to be better prepared for the world. The books we secretly shared but could never discuss. Your belief that books, all genres, could better prepare me for the world came true.

There is a reason some secrets should remain and Parents should not know everything about their children.

Thank you, Mom.

Your Son

P.S. This letter will never be mailed, I don't know the mailing address to heaven.