On a walk a few days, a kid called out to me: “Hey, my mom and I read that book about the big lamp.”
“Big lamp?” I said.
“You know, the big lamp that hangs over the table.”
“Oh,” I said. “You read Ferris. You mean chandelier.”
“What?” he said.
“Chandelier,” I said. “That’s the name of the big lamp.”
“Right,” he said. “Anyway, it was a good book. I liked when they were all underneath the chandelier. It was bright.”

This exchange made me so happy.
I can’t think of a better compliment than to call a book “bright.”
Books are lights.
Thank you to everyone who reads a story aloud, everyone who brings another person to sit beneath the big lamp.

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