I am continuing the quest to purge my house of excess stuff.
Took a look at the Fantasy Book Shelf, a sacred space in my home.
It was surprising and delightful to look back at just the titles and remember all those fantastic voyages, the writing that ignited my passion for fantasy, the authors like old friends.
It was intriguing to be pushed to remember who I was when I read those books, or where I first read them.
I did not linger long. Memory often brings me acute emotional pain.
So I merely glanced, and tasted again of that luxurious season of library trips by bike, stacks of books on the corner of my bed, and afternoons reading in the sunshine of the giant window of my room…and of course rainbow dragons!