I have a recurring dream of being locked in an abandoned library or bookstore for days and being over the moon happy about it. Surrounded by all those hundreds of books, all those stories and dream worlds and characters and truths quietly waiting for someone to take their pages into their own imagination and breathe life into them, to give their words legs to run through the undiscovered recesses of our minds, to give them hands that can stretch and reshape and quiet and provoke and enliven our thoughts, our beliefs, sometimes the very essence of who we are.
Plus libraries and bookstores would be awesome places to nap.
It makes me happy to foster within my kids a love of reading and a love for books themselves. To see that appreciation and love growing in them makes me proud.
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