Mondays with Pigeon : : The Bookstore Cafe

Mondays were Father's day off, which made Mondays a day for family. Pigeon was glad when they were all at home together. It meant that he got twice as many cuddles and had twice as many people to play and blow razz-berries with. And when Father was home, Pigeon could lie in his arms instead of the crib when Mother needed both arms, elbows, and all ten fingers to get something done. It also meant that they all would probably go somewhere exciting together, to a place full of kitsch, and people, and the clanging of spoons on glass. This Monday, they went to a place full of books.

Mummy and Daddy used to come here on dates, Mother whispered. Around them quiet people bent over stacks of good things to read, their hands wrapped around steaming paper cups that smelled like mornings at Pigeon's house. The three of them waded through a sea of tables and chairs to a glass counter full of little cookies and cakes. A brownie and a small coffee, Mother said to Father, looking down into the glass. Pigeon knew that word. Coffee. It went with the smell he'd recognized.

At their table, Pigeon stood in Mother's lap and explored the place with shining eyes. Soon Father joined them, bringing cups and plates full of delicious-smelling things that Pigeon wanted to eat, but couldn't. First you must grow teeth, Mother said. Pigeon smacked his lips and watched her bite into a fudgy brownie. Father had an apple tart.

Mother took Pigeon for a walk through the stacks and towers of books, walls of shiny spines splashed with words which people stared at with scrunched-up noses. They came to a cheerful space filled with soft, bright colors and happy children. Here were some of the same books that Mother read to Pigeon at home! There were also many more than that. Pigeon thought he might like to have one of each. In the end, Mother picked a book full of birds and one about a curious little monkey named George.

Back at their table, Pigeon ran his hand over the glossy yellow cover and chattered at the pictures of the little ape, who apparently liked to wiggle as much as Pigeon did. Mother read to him for a little while, then took him for another walk. Though he fought and fought, Pigeon couldn't stop his eyes from closing. Soon he drifted off into a dream. It was hard not to feel cozy in a place full of books, surrounded by the people he loved...