There are many books that bring me to tears — often for different reasons. Not all have good stories attached to them.
When Keb was at preschool in Ms. Melissa's class, he was "friends" with a young man named Harris. To my knowledge, Harris' dad was a doctor and his mom worked for Intel. When they had come over for Keb's birthday party, I just assumed Harris' dad took pictures.
However, one day Ms. Melissa filled me in. "Did you know Harris' dad wrote a book?" she asked me. I told her no, asked which one and put it on my list of things to do. That Christmas season, I got around to buying it and reading it.
It was HEARTBREAKING. There I was trying to read and exercise at the same time, bawling my eyes out. I was so crushed at what had happened that it affected me the rest of the night. I was so incredibly filled with sorrow for what had happened that it haunted me.
My haunting must have affected Keb too. At school he confronted Mr. Husseini with, "Your book made my Mom cry!" I don't know that Mr. Husseini said anything back, and he and I certainly never talked of it.
Later that year they moved from our area to somewhere in San Jose. Only later did I realize what a big deal his book was. On some level, I guess I should have asked for an autograph. I never did, because I was too embarrassed to approach him at daycare.