One morning during a snowstorm I sat alone and wondered how to unfold my day, now unmarked with cancelled plans with a friend who was nervous about driving in this weather.
My fall had been filled with major tumult pertaining to life decisions about marriage, relationship, children and lifestyle identifications. I made many good choices the latter part of the year, some bad ones. All were hard fought with a struggle to balance family needs and individual desire. The year had left my body and soul limp, yet also oddly stiff with lingering anger.
I picked up the first book of Game of Thrones that day just because we had it. At this time I knew little about this world except that the TV show captivated many people.
Quickly, the book transported me into a world so rich with distinct characters who came to life amid their agendas, regional cuisine, customs, attire, weapons, housing, religions and horses. Chapter after chapter swept my emotions away from my own doubtful universe left unstructured while children were at school, into a panoramic panoply of impressive intrigue, suspense and unfatigued description.
The door opened and cold air rushed in.
The kids had come home from school. I looked up and had to come back up to surface.
I returned again and again for intense savoring, a devouring reinforced with fierce note taking. There began my 2-year love affair with fire, dragons and the Seven Kingdoms.