Sunday, March 21, 2010

On my tear-stained pillow and the absence of my sheets

A question that doesn't change. But answers that do.

Where do you read? I mean, where is your favorite place to read?

I used to read outside. Until the snow came. Until it shoved me inside and kept me there.
I used to read in the back of our car. With the trunk open. Getting my vitamin D. (And possible a farmer's tan.)
I used to read lying on the driveway. The book over my face to keep the blinding sun out of my eyes.

That used to be my favorite place to read.

But now I enjoy my bed. The warmth at night when the Wicth of Endor creeps up.
And when Eastman dies.
And when I turn on my music on my bedside trying to remind myself that there are no cupboards behind these walls.

It is comfort.

It was the first day of Spring. And there I was hoping to get out in the sun. And there was the snow.

But no doubt, when the red line hits 60, I will be back outside. And I will be happy.



Noël De Vries said...


Last month, I was reading a lot in the tiny graveyard down a nearby gravel road, stretched out on a long low tomb, basking in the sunshine.

But I wouldn't recommend reading N.D. Wilson in a graveyard...

Maggie DeVries said...

Neither would I. Haha