The other day as I walked down a bookstore isle, I looked to my left was Fahrenheit 451 and to my right was I Remember Nothing. I stood there between two works by authors that inspired me to be a better writer. Two authors that had recently died. Then something unexpected and ridiculous happened. I began to cry. I had never met Ray Bradbury or Nora Ephron but their absence upset me like they were dear friends.
Why was I crying in a public place where anyone from high school could see me?
I can only come up with it was the compelling characters I could identify with as a young adult were somehow dead to me now too. I will never meet Bradbury and Ephron to thank them for the comfort they afforded me.
So here I lift my glass to you both. Thank you for all the characters that distracted me when I was sick, sad or stressed out. I hope one day to pay it forward.