So, I have been looking at some old favorites lately – Emily of New Moon, to be exact. In case you couldn’t tell, considering my previous post. But tonight, I was sitting at a bar, having some wine – Daniel is off on a camping trip, so I had to find a way to entertain myself – and I began reading it again. Yes, while sitting at the bar. And somehow, I still found myself completely lost in its pages. L.M. Montgomery has such a way of pulling one into her pages. I was lost in the magic of her words – they completely wove a spell about me. And reminded me of why I had such a passion for writing when I was young. And now. But, I just have to rediscover it. Perhaps the trick is reading the books that make me feel young and romantic again. You know, the other day, when I was reading quotes from Anne of Green Gables, I had this sudden, sad feeling that I was too old to dream anymore, that it was too late, that the way in which Anne thought and dreamed – it was too late for me. But, surely not. Surely, if L.M. Montgomery’s short stories teach us anything, it is that you are never too old to dream. How many of her stories contain middle aged women who dream and act like young women? Perhaps, then, I am not yet too old, and I can yet find my way, and wrap people in my stories the way she wraps me in hers.