I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and most of the time, that’s fine by me. But in the early spring, when the ground is sprinkled with life, and the sky fills with birds returning home from the winter, traveling thousands of miles, I get homesick. Homesick for places that I’ve never been. Places like castles. Not the sort of castles that you can actually visit. I’ve never really been homesick for places that I could actually go, or even see if I looked it up on the internet.

When I talk about wanting to go into a forest, I’m talking about the kind where the trees sway and sing back and forth to one another. The kind where little creatures – elves or fairies? I don’t know – will watch you from the shadows because they don’t know yet if your heart is pure enough for them to show themselves.

No, I’m talking about the castles with dragons and piles of gold, and knights and warriors of the bravest sort. I just want to watch them, maybe not even participate in the adventure. I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to tame a dragon. Most books say you can’t, but I think they’re wrong. Anything can be tamed. If the heart can be tamed, so can anything else. I’ve always wanted to save the world, and I think there’s more to it than just skill or bravery, or even desire for the aftermath. I think it has more to do with a willingness, to stare in the face of failure and still be willing.

When I watch these birds, I want to find tunnels and dungeons, and treasure troves. I want to find a magic mirror where I can step through to a different world – the other side of reality where magic exists, where I will be considered strange because I’m normal, or rather, I could pass off as what is considered normal in this world, but is strange to any other.

That’s what I mean by castles. Maybe even castles in the sky. The sort of place where humans have wings. (How interesting). I would love to go places like that – kingdoms of a forgotten world, hiding places of magic beings, cities of the underworld – but I’ve always sort of had my head in the clouds. And I probably always will.

Maybe that’s why I’m a writer.

Maybe that’s why my personality is so strange.

But I’m not going to worry about that right now. The spring doesn’t last forever, though I could watch these birds forever.

(So sorry it’s taken me forever to get back to this blog! School is to thank. Maybe minoring in Spanish wasn’t the best idea, after learning nothing for my first two years… Anyway, I’m planning to get back into the habit!)

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