Jaci Dawn

I am sitting here in Ely, Nevada, sorting through the remnants of my father’s life. It is not exciting: it is strange and eerily without spirit. I thought I might feel his spirit when I walked in the front door a couple days ago, but there’s nothing. He’s not here. He left his memories of my mom, but she hasn’t been here for 16 years.

The will has been executed and only a few things were actually itemized, so it has been up to my brother and I as to how things are to be divided. My sister’s oldest is acting in her stead and sharing in the division of the household good; he inherits the house. Depressing stuff but stuff that must be done.

There are moments of joy. Funny photographs, the discovery of some item my father was certain had been lost or stolen but which had merely been misplaced, finding my costume from my 4th grade tap-dance debut (we did the cha-cha and it was absolutely embarrassing).

One thing that was spelled out in my father’s will was the dispensing of the books. I get first pick of all the books. It’s overwhelming.Sadly, some of my childhood books were long gone: the old Wizard of Oz books by L. Frank Baum and Billy Whiskers series by Frances Trego Montgomery.

Today, I braved the outside shed with all the black widows and hobo spiders. We did set off a bug bomb in there, but with all the stuff and leaks, I wasn’t certain all the spiders would be dead (they weren’t but I didn’t see any widows or brown recluses, just a hornet and a tiny white spider). My goal was simply to throw away everything useless so that when my brother arrives from Reno tomorrow, we have an easier task of it. There really isn’t anything in that shed I want, so it will be divided between my nephew and my brother.

Or so I thought.

I moved a crate and stared at five cardboard boxes sitting on the floor, taped and labeled. BOOKS. BILLY WHISKERS.

Oh. My. God.

I actually felt the presence of my father for a moment and heard his amused chuckle. He knew the books were there. He wanted me to find them.

I have sorted through them and am only keeping two boxes of them. There were so many old friends in those boxes: paperbacks I saved for and bought through Scholastic Books at school. There were books that belonged to my mother, to my grandmother and some that belonged to my great grandmother. I found three books of the Bobbsey Twins. Shakespeare, Milton, DeFoe and more. Books, books, books! And most of them in good condition.

Sadly, the Billy Whiskers books are in sad shape and one has no cover at all to it anymore. I only found the insides of Ozma of Oz and none of the other Oz books. I’ll have to recover them but since they have already lost any value they had when they lost their covers, that is perfectly fine. I will still have the words. I can scarcely wait to get reacquainted with that recalcitrant old goat, Billy Whiskers!

I think I found my own little piece of heaven today. I miss my dad but I will always have him near as long as I have all those books to read and re-read!