She Was Showing Up

I’m already out of the car when the door opens again. An older woman steps out.

Smiles at Maya. Hands her a key. A few minutes later, I finally confront her at home.

“Why the library?” She freezes. Then nods. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out

yet.” She sits down. Explains everything. The librarian’s husband passed away.

She can’t lift boxes anymore. Can’t run programs alone. So Maya volunteers.

Every day. After hours. She teaches kids how to read. Helps immigrants

practice English. Carries donated books home to repair them. The wet sleeves?

Cleaning flooded shelves. The heavy backpack? Books she didn’t want thrown away.