Once upon a time there were books. Stories printed on white sheets of paper, all bound together between two hardcovers. Sometimes there were pictures to help illustrate these stories.
These books were like specials friends who took me to wondrous places, introduced me to amazing characters, and fed my imagination.
When I was young, I would sit for hours transported into my stories. I would hide under my blankets at night, reading by the yellow glow from my flashlight. Thinking I was doing something forbidden, my adventure were all the more exciting.
I met characters who became friends… Laura, who grew up on the prairie; and Heidi who lived with her grandfather in the Alps; and Charlie who won a chocolate factory.
I traveled to realms far off in another galaxy and to magical mythical lands, where I mingled with fanciful creatures – unicorns and dragons, Hobbits and elves, Martians and Lilliputians.
Those days are long past, but I can still get lost in a book, become attached to its characters and their lives. I miss the hours I spent in these other worlds, cherishing what few opportunities I now find to let my imagination fly free.