the door
She spent the last few weeks lost in the remaining pages of the book that she almost burned; Captivated by the twist of ideas and pairing of unexpected theories and approaches.
Slowly, she ate every word, sentence, page, chapter. As though she were at a buffet, she went back again and again for more. Each chapter inspired her to read yet another book and so the lovely amazon shopping feature on her iPhone developed a mind of its' own and began ordering away and the doorbell starting ringing with deliveries! She was too engrossed to answer the calls, so the brown packages piled up haphazardly on the porch until she was ready to invite them in. The antique bookshelves were joyously anticipating the new arrivals until the opportune time that the life on the pages would introduce themselves to the wiring in her mind and the vessels of her heart. With a long relieved exhale and the closing of a devoured book, she looked up and realized that it had started snowing! The winter season of her soul had arrived, and almost without her even noticing. She recalls the autumn season when the leaves of her mind were just beginning to change colors. She recalls the smell of smoke from nearby fireplaces that hadn't burned their ideas since the year before, if at all for that matter. Her heart still heard the the calling of the sleepy sun that chased off the daylight sooner and sooner with each passing day, until darkness of the evening hours swallowed the light completely. Had she really lost track of that much time? Or had she in fact, time traveled and simply chose the season on purpose? Still fuzzy from her return from the expedition with Proust, she remembered the collection of books on the porch and tried to open the front door, but the knob was missing and the door was locked! Confused but challenged, she looked around the room for a chair but could only make out a dimly lit ocean of books and a sandy shore of broken things; Broken things that she would pick up and use a little later and that she loved dearly. Carefully, she gathered several lonely books from their places on the floor and stacked them into a neat but not-so-sturdy pile and climbed on! Atop a teetering pile of books, she peered through the cold fogged up glass window at the now snow-dusted pile of packages and wondered how she could get to them before they were buried alive. The tower of books began to tilt and she struggled to catch a look at the outside of the door before she tumbled to the floor atop the hard-covered books that bruised her ribs as she fell on them. She laid there with tears streaming down her cheeks and wondered out loud as though someone could hear her, "Why was the door locked from the outside?"
Slowly, she ate every word, sentence, page, chapter. As though she were at a buffet, she went back again and again for more. Each chapter inspired her to read yet another book and so the lovely amazon shopping feature on her iPhone developed a mind of its' own and began ordering away and the doorbell starting ringing with deliveries! She was too engrossed to answer the calls, so the brown packages piled up haphazardly on the porch until she was ready to invite them in. The antique bookshelves were joyously anticipating the new arrivals until the opportune time that the life on the pages would introduce themselves to the wiring in her mind and the vessels of her heart. With a long relieved exhale and the closing of a devoured book, she looked up and realized that it had started snowing! The winter season of her soul had arrived, and almost without her even noticing. She recalls the autumn season when the leaves of her mind were just beginning to change colors. She recalls the smell of smoke from nearby fireplaces that hadn't burned their ideas since the year before, if at all for that matter. Her heart still heard the the calling of the sleepy sun that chased off the daylight sooner and sooner with each passing day, until darkness of the evening hours swallowed the light completely. Had she really lost track of that much time? Or had she in fact, time traveled and simply chose the season on purpose? Still fuzzy from her return from the expedition with Proust, she remembered the collection of books on the porch and tried to open the front door, but the knob was missing and the door was locked! Confused but challenged, she looked around the room for a chair but could only make out a dimly lit ocean of books and a sandy shore of broken things; Broken things that she would pick up and use a little later and that she loved dearly. Carefully, she gathered several lonely books from their places on the floor and stacked them into a neat but not-so-sturdy pile and climbed on! Atop a teetering pile of books, she peered through the cold fogged up glass window at the now snow-dusted pile of packages and wondered how she could get to them before they were buried alive. The tower of books began to tilt and she struggled to catch a look at the outside of the door before she tumbled to the floor atop the hard-covered books that bruised her ribs as she fell on them. She laid there with tears streaming down her cheeks and wondered out loud as though someone could hear her, "Why was the door locked from the outside?"
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