Is it late
or is it early?
The start to a new day
or the end to the last?
The witching hour cares not.
Crisp pages like autumn leaves turn by hand; the sound of wind from beyond my window carries the music of chimes; a bough scratches to get my attention; dancing wisps of steam drift up from a cup of tea, the smell of rain touching my nose; and all the while a book—a little world—is cradled in my lap, sits open, and waits for me
There is nothing quite like falling into a book. This inanimate thing once a mystery on a dusty shelf reveals itself as a friend, a fellow night-wanderer, an insomniac’s most trusted ally. A safe place.
When was the last time you fell for one? Found one? When was the last time you felt the hours of the day slip by whilst pages slipped through your fingers? Allowed yourself the freedom to dream?
I imagine we all have at least one book whose world we flee to when ours gets too scary.
It helps to have a place to go where elongated shadows are only as scary as their first impression; where a narrator holds us tight, and cradles us through the frightening moments; where we no longer fear the next hour, but instead eagerly await the next page.
I hope it hasn’t been too long since you last visited. I hope, like me, you’ve found some solace in hiding between covers lately, and escaping it all. Life can get hard—and everyone deserves to fall for a book: everyone deserves a world to turn to when theirs gets scary.
I hope you find yours.
So that when you’re ready to close shut the covers, and wake to the world, it isn’t fear that you feel, but instead comfort in knowing you have a safe place to return to.