Snow is still falling here.
I watched the flakes pass in front of my bathroom window this morning and realized how accurate
the snow globes of my childhood were.
The snow and I are becoming familiar and I welcome its presence.
This is probably because I am a home body at heart and a cold day, snow falling gives me permission to sit on the sofa in front of a fire, a blanket wrapped around me with a good book in a way that the sunshine of California never did.
I read a lot.
I have adored stories and books since my first recollection of myself.
I recently read the book ROOM by Emma Donahue have no choice but to recommend it to you.
It is the stunning narrative of five year old Jack, born in an 11x11 room.
He stays in that room with his "Ma" who he adores until their great escape.
The subject matter is sad and horrifying, but in the voice of Jack, there is only what he knows. And that is the love of a mother who creates a world of education and love in that small room for her boy.
You will love Jack. You will love his perspective.
You will ache for Ma.