For Christmas this year I received a pocket copy of "The Hobbit" by JRR Tolkien from a friend who I greatly admire. I have to confess, in high school I was a total Lord of the Rings nerd. I had a "small" shrine in my closet, with posters, the ring, ticket stubs, and a popcorn bucket from the theatre. A friend of mine and I would print off photos from the internet and "laminate" them, aka, putting scotch tape over them and used them like baseball cards. One time my friend came to school with hair like Elrond the elf, ha ha ha, she came up to me that morning so excited because she thought she could speak Elvish. Truthfully I was amazed by her hair and a new language. Looking back it's strange to me that people think of high school as the "glory days".
So heres the thing, I just finished reading a fantastic novel full of adventure, satire, sorrow and copious mentioning's of tea and all the delightful treats that come along with it. I love how a good, preferably dead, author can capture your mind and imagination, and lead you word by word in to a place where you feel as if you are a character yourself. I found myself on a small pony with the large party of Dwarfs, a Wizard and a Hobbit, traveling through wooded forests, meeting trolls, climbing up rocky mountain paths, being in storms fighting goblins and spiders, hiding from elves, meeting mysterious creatures all for the sake of a dragon and treasure. I sat in my living room, or Starbucks (mmmmm Caramel Biscotti), my mind and heart fully on an adventure. It was wonderful. There really is nothing like a good book. I am grateful for authors like Tolkien or LM. Montgomery or C.S Lewis and many more who have been gifted with the ability to create wonderful stories.
