With Love from London

The fact of the matter is bad things happen to good people. They do. All the time. But it’s our choice whether we wallow in them for the rest of our lives, or whether we accept the invitation. I furrow my brow, confused. “The invitation?” “Yes, to begin life’s grand second act. You see, that’s what your mother learned. Once she stopped looking back, she could finally move forward.

What makes books more special than, say, a move, is that you can hold them. When your own world feels bleak, a book is a portal to anywhere. You can hide within the pages, linger there for comfort or protection. The best part? Whether you’re seven or sixty-seven, a favorite books is like an old friend, waiting for you with open arms, and right now, that’s what The Last Winter is for me.

That the best books choose you.

The first, you’ll find by paying attention to these words from Cicero (though, I’ll admit, I’m partial to libraries): “If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.

She always said you can tell a lot about a person by the books they keep...

A woman can’t help where she comes from, but she is in full possession of who she becomes.

What makes books more special than, say, a movie, is that you can hold them. When your own world feels bleak, a book is a portal to anywhere. You can hide within the pages, linger there for comfort or protection.

... the best books choose you.” She looked up at her mother, confused, then back at me. “You mean,” she said, placing her hand on the edge of a nearby shelf, “books have feelings?” “Yes,” I said with a smile. “And only you can unlock them. It’s easy, though. All you have to do is read the pages.

Trauma isn’t a single event, but rather an ongoing process. The brain wants to move on quickly, to stomp out any memories associated with the trauma. But the heart wants to understand.

Grief is a treacherous journey, but it doesn’t last forever.

My librarian instincts kick in. “Well, the fact that his son is reading at all says something,” I say. Millie looks up from the counter, seemingly startled by my comment. "When I mean is”—I pause, searching for the right words—“reading only leads to more reading. As a child, I read the gamut—from the classics to the Baby-Sitters Club. If a kid can find a book that she gets excited about, it will only make her more open to experience that feeling again—in all sorts of other stories.

The thing is, once you get lost in a story, you want to get lost in another. It’s a self-fulfilling prophesy.

Books numbed the pain. Inside their grand adventures I could walk alongside a myriad of characters with lives as complicated as mine