Quickly scanning the picture books, my hands running over the tops of them, I stopped surprised.

Another hand was running over the top of the same section too and had stopped on that very same title.

Where the wild things are by Maurice Sendak, apologizing I let you take her take it. An older woman, with wrinkled hands and a gentle smile.

She picked it up, walking over to some comfy chairs along the wall. She started to tell me about how her grand-daughter was going to have her first baby, a boy. She was already set on the name Max, the namesake of the main character in the book. She smiled at the thought of what this book meant to her and her family, she had read it to all of her children and grandchildren for years.

My smile I couldn’t contain, so bright, I had said my name was Maxine for that same reason, I was also named after that character and my grandmother, had read me that book growing up.

It was a warm, happy connection. I never thought I’d experience.

She took the book home for her great-great-grandson and I ordered a new one.