Our Library Card Ceremony

My son turned five in March, which in our house means one thing: his own library card.

We made a big deal of it. He wore his bow tie. We walked the eight blocks to the branch library holding hands. The librarian, who has known him since he was in a stroller, made a little speech about responsibility and adventure. He signed his name with a backwards S and she said it was the most beautiful signature she'd seen all week.

He checked out eleven books, the maximum, mostly about trucks and one about the moon. He carried them home himself, refusing help, wobbling under the stack.

That night he "read" all eleven to his stuffed animals before bed. I sat in the hallway listening, and I thought about my own first library card, and my mother walking me there. Some keys open more than doors.