From A Child of Books by Oliver Jeffers

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For this is our world we’ve made of stories, our house is a home of invention where anyone at all can come.

There was a moment on Saturday when I felt M’s arm around me, and I could hear T leading our friends in a procession, kazoo music filling the air, that I felt truly, immensely, blissfully happy.

There was a moment when I stood upstairs in M’s office showing our friends where the science fiction books would go when I happened to glance out the window. And there in groups of two’s and three’s, pleasantly chatting with each other, were all of our dearest friends. It felt like I was an observer in my own life, above it all, watching a garden party of my own making.

There was a moment in the morning when I felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of our intentions, not sure if I could pull it off, towers of boxes threatening to topple over and spill out our life’s contents. But then I looked over at A, and saw her pick up another bin on the way to the basement and knew that it would happen. That the moment for calling it off and hiding under the covers had passed. Her sureness and fortitude kept me focused.

There was a moment, when most everyone had gone but a few guests remained, that we all sat in the livingroom. The fireplace was unlit, but the room was bathed in a warm glow, and my son—home from college for the special occasion–sat in a chair holding a sleepy puppy, both cozy and content.

There was a moment when T and I walked over to the library as I thought about the group of people who had gathered to watch M and I renew our vows. It felt like the twenty years since our first wedding day had passed in the time it takes a raindrop to fall. But in truth there were hard days and good times and struggles and joys. In truth, it feels like we’ve lived a whole life in the past two weeks. We bought a house, adopted a puppy and moved all of our belongings. It’s been a whirlwind of activity for sure.

There was a moment when M and I stood facing each other, holding hands, reciting the vows we had written, that time stopped for me.   I looked into his blue eyes, the same eyes I’ve seen for over 20 years and realized that these dreams we’ve shared for so long were actually coming true. We live in a beautiful 200 year old house with room for all of animals and books. We can finally have friends over for picnics in the backyard and lazy afternoons on Doughnut Sundays. I feel like I’ve found Wonka’s golden ticket and got my own chocolate factory. We are part of this long and shared history of the people who have lived here and now it’s time for our own happily ever after.

There was a moment when I realized I would get to share all of this with you, the readers. But most especially those of you who have been following along since “Language of the Lens.” Thank you for all of you thoughts and support all of these years as I ranted and hoped. Now that we are here and I have a room of my own, I know there will be many new adventures to share with you. But first there are boxes to be unpacked and can-openers to be found.

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