A night earlier, I had been playing a card game (Monopoly Deal, highly recommended, especially if no one is winning or losing too successively, definitely one the greatest "ONE MORE ROUND!" games I've ever encountered) with my little sister, & somehow started making obscure jokes referencing One Gorilla. At the time, I wasn't even sure this was the correct title of the childhood book I felt I could picture so perfectly in my head. I wondered where that old book was - it wasn't on my sister's bookshelves, where a portion of my own childhood had migrated to. It wasn't on my own, where minus a lot of the juvenilia such as a hefty Goosebumps collection (not dissing Goosebumps btw), another portion of my childhood had migrated to. So I figured I'd get a copy for nostalgia.
Fast forward to the next morning, I don't have much going on. It was a big relief, a welcome shift from my constant meetings, contact follow-up, interviews, calls with People of Importance, etc... & anyway, I notice (this at my parent's house) at the top of their own oddly-inhabited bookshelf, there is a bunch of crap that looks like children's books. They're stacked precariously, so I don't really want to touch anything, but get up on my tippy-toes & scan the spines & notice most of these are older books of mine! It takes me awhile to find One Gorilla, but sure enough, it's there, with my original 1- or 2-year old self's graffiti all over the back of it.
I wasn't able to help myself, & went through it, properly counting out all the animals (which I swear to God isn't as cookie-cutter easy as other books of the genre), & just enjoying the beautiful artwork & chill vibes the gorilla gives in like every single picture. I chuckled at the well-defined gorilla buttcrack in a few of the images. I remembered why, as simple as it was, I never forgot the book. It's just great art.
Hiding a copy under my sister's pillow, she found it later that night, remembered (with my nudging) what it was in reference to, refused to look at a kid's book, & that was that.
But I'm still with you, homie. You're coming back home with me