the world was abrasive, a sandstorm pelting my tender spirit. constantly cringing I retreated. found my ticket to travel and explore other worlds, different dimensions, visit far off planets. i had a tribe, not just a family, but many homes where i belonged.
hannah gruen checked on me constantly, making sure i was safe and well taken care of. carson drew loved and provided for me. fenton hardy always wanted me to visit. i had a crush on ned nickerson. beth and george were my besties, with whom i could share everything.
i walked the moors with heathcliff, and cried with tess as she realized her place in the world. i mourned with him for lenore and cringed at the sound of drip – drip – drip until it nigh drove me crazy. i warned the working girls away from whitechapel. i mourned when marmie took sick from taking food to the starving family down the road. i too fell in love with laurie and wanted nothing more than to read quietly in the eaves with my worn but oh so cozy blanket and an apple. i thought it unfair when amy and laurie got married, and jo was left to then mourn beth.
when the ‘real world’ was too much to bear, i wished for the comfort of rivendell and knew that strider would protect me, for i was most definitely a long-lost descendant of galadrial. if wishing were fruitful, i would have been transported to the shire, and lived in a hobbit hole, with a round door, that had a knob in the middle of it. i mourned with mathilde when she worked her beauty away paying back a diamond necklace that was nothing but paste. i cried when della and jim traded their most priceless objects for nothing and everything.
i spent countless hours on the alps with the grandfather. i tasted the fresh goats milk and climbed the stairs to the little sleeping space complete with a most comfortable bed made from hay. I visited peter’s grandmother, who was going blind, and was taken away to become a companion to adeline. i wasted away waiting for the grandfather to rescue me. i left the city with the swiss family robinson, and lived in the wild, finding a freedom i hadn’t known existed. i bawled when carton went to the guillotine, a human sacrifice for love and viva la france.
i could go on for days and never ever write of all the wondrous things i’ve seen and felt. i believe it’s part of the reason i choose to embrace everything so vibrantly. casting all doubts to hell, i decided to jump off the edge and bare me. if these magnificent worlds were created, then in some dimension reserved for the imaginings of writers, they exist. i decided to live, really live and make my existence an amazing tale of tragedy, adventure, love, suspense, but of course with a happy ending.
i never even got to the fairy tales, fantasy, sci fi, mythology, theology.. smh. wow. i could write a book about books.