I had been feeling moody and blue, and probably a bit sorry for myself as teens are wont to do.
I loved that book. I read it in one sitting. Then, a few days later, I read it again. But more so, I loved the fact that someone gave me the book. It seemed to me it was the perfect book. I wasn't twelve, like the main character of the book.
But for just a little bit, from this gift of a book, I felt twelve, I really did, and the next day, I smiled.
This is why we write.
Merry Christmas everyone, from the intrepid staff of Adventures in Writing!