It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to sit down and write. And I often find I’m most inspired in that same special place time and time again, reminding me that the “pen is indeed mightier than the sword.”

That special place is, obviously, my book room. A room where there are more pages than problems, where there are more words than worries, and ultimately, where there are more books than oxygen to breathe. I like it that way.

But recently, I’ve neglected this space. I’ve chosen the cold, kitchen table over this warm and cozy nook for reasons I can’t quite put a finger on.

Perhaps it’s the stress of a new job, the laborious hours spent wrestling with lesson plans and grading. Perhaps it’s the ease of just plopping down somewhere closest to the fridge after a long day. A girl’s gotta eat. Or perhaps it’s because this is a new season that I’m still growing into, learning to balance work and play.

Regardless, I always come back to this room. The small and quiet magic it holds and the warmth of my cat who follows. It’s therapeutic.

Needless to say, I’m inspired to write and read more and talk less. I want to listen better and simply be present. This space reminds me of those important things, no matter how often it becomes neglected or forgotten.

Here, I feel home. Here, I’m reminded that adventure is just a closed book waiting to be opened, listened to, and read.

Aren’t we like books? Just waiting for someone to pay closer attention to us, for someone to simply take the time to care? To invest and listen? To fold back our pages (walls) and seek to go deeper?

Vulnerability is hard, but it’s beautiful. Listening can be difficult, but it’s worth it. And slowing down isn’t always easy, but it’s important.

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