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He had always been a favorite author of mine so when I
opened the finely wrapped gift on Christmas morning, my hand rushed up to cover
my mouth. How did I not know he had written a new book? How did the gift giver
beat me to it? I could hardly wait to be alone, to dive into this new world, to
watch his words come alive, to soar with his imagination. You see, it was a
particularly difficult Christmas for me. I was newly divorced, back home with
my parents, and honestly, I was sad. Sad that my life wasn’t at all like I
hoped it would be. But … as I would soon find out, my imagination was exactly
what my spirit needed. And a new read from a favorite author? Well, that part
at least, was even better than I hoped.
I tucked my legs up under myself for so long, they ached. I
laughed out loud. I filled my eyes with tears. And my body, well, I’m pretty
sure it lost some of its heavy emotion. And all because of one man’s gift of
imagination. Thank you, dear author, I said to his picture on the back
cover when I was finished reading, thank you for bringing a smile to my sad
heart. And universe, if you are listening, I’d like to thank him one day in
person, to tell him what a gift he has been to me this Christmas.
And just like that, I got on with the rest of Christmas.
Until the phone rang.
It was a friend of mine. She wanted to meet me for lunch the
next day. At a bookstore in an out-of-the-way-town. I agreed. And hung up with
yet another smile.
The next day, in a town about forty minutes away, I was
browsing through books, waiting for our name to be called for an open table. I
was wandering, probably daydreaming, when I looked up and saw who I thought was
the author I had just read the day before, the author who had transformed my
Christmas. I blink-stared. And blinked some more. He doesn’t live here. It’s
the day after Christmas. He’d never be here … would he? I went to the shelf
where his books lived to double check what I was seeing, the face on the back
cover with this face I was seeing in person. I crept around the corner, peering
as discretely as I could. It was him. It was definitely him. My heart picked up
its pace. I knew exactly what I had to do.
“Excuse me, but are you Nick Bantock?”
He turned to face me with a sly smile, “I am.”
I’m sure I swallowed a big gulp of air, “I thought so. Well,
there’s something you need to know.” And I proceeded to tell him how he saved
my Christmas, how his words brought wings to an otherwise heavy heart. I
thanked him again and again and again.
And do you know what he told me?
That earlier that day he felt a strange urge to pull off the
freeway, that amidst protests from everyone else in the car, he just knew he
had to stop in at the out-of-the-way bookstore in the out-of-the-way town but
he didn’t know why.
And then he said, that lately, the past few months anyway,
he had been doubting his worth as an author, that he wondered if anyone ever
read him anymore and if he should just stop writing all together. He looked at
me, talked to me, his eyes begging for answers he just couldn’t find himself.
“No, no, no!” I said. “Please keep writing. I know I am not
the only one who needs your imagination. If you buoyed me, a heavy-hearted new
divorcee on Christmas, I can’t possibly be the only one.” I searched his eyes.
Was I reaching him? So then I said, “You know something Mr. Nick Bantock
in the out-of-the-way-bookstore on the day after Christmas? I’m a reminder from
the universe to keep writing because what you do . . . is magic. And we all need
magic in this world, now maybe more than ever.”
And I swear to you, right then, his eyes caught fire.
As did mine. And maybe not just my eyes. Yes, I am sure my
heart did, too.
*
* *
Ask for your heart’s desires, for the feelings, the
connections, the answers you need. Ask because you know, somewhere deep inside,
that exactly what you need is out there, waiting for you. For you see, Nick
Bantock isn’t the only magic one. I happen to know that you are, too. You just
need to believe it, for yourself, and especially this week, today . . . this
Christmas.
4 comments:
What a marvelous story. More proof there are no coincidences. More proof the world is on balance a very good place, despite the evil against which we battle. Thank you Brynne. This made Christmas Day even brighter for me - if that's possible!
And you, my dear, dear Michael, just made my Christmas even brighter, too. Ohh what a beautiful world awaits us all, if we only saw with the love that always is:)
"There are no coincidences." I have been hearing this phrase over and over for the past three months. And I'm starting to believe it. Enjoy the magic!
Keep writing, beautiful Renee. And protect your magic.:)
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