We are in our school’s entrance hallway at 8:15 in the morning. I am carrying two large bags of books we no longer need. The younger Chattering and I culled through these books last night. We are excited because our school will donate these books to needy school libraries.

I am so close to the book drop. I have twenty yards to go when–oh drat!–the pre-teen Chattering son becomes alert to what is happening and says, “Hey wait, which books are you giving away?”

“Oh, just books we don’t need anymore.”

He kneels to examine them. “But Mom, this is the first book on the human body I ever had. I had this book as a kid!”

“Umm, yes. That’s right.”

He digs out another, and then looks at me as though I have committed the most heinous murder. “You’re giving away my book on THE CELTS??!!”

“Honey, that’s the least of your books on the Celts. You have others. Look, we are doing a good thing. When you give something up, you make space for something new.”

He is not convinced. All told, he salvages six or seven of the thirty books I was about to donate, and he staggers up the school stairs with them.

I feel wicked. Highly imperfect. But I am also filled with love for him. How’s he going to fit all those books into his locker, I wonder? Then I walk out the door. Spring seems around the corner.