All because of words on a page

 

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The clouds hid the sun, making it possible for me to sit comfortably in the car while I waited for my husband at an appointment. I had three chapters left to read in The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder and had looked forward to this quiet time. With the windows down and cool breezes blowing, I delved into my reading, as people walked down the sidewalk and pulled in and out of parking spaces around me.

    I finished two chapters and began the last one. Right away, the author pulled at my heartstrings in such a way that tears began rolling down my cheeks. I reached for a Kleenex and dabbed my eyes, hoping that passersby would not notice a blubbering woman sitting in a car outside a medical facility and wonder if she had been given some devastating news. I kept on reading words and dabbing tears until I had read the last word on the last page. Then I closed the book and sat there, relishing.

    I cannot recall the last time a book had that effect on me, nor do I expect to find another one like it any time soon. I marvel that a writer can put words on paper and evoke such emotion in a reader. What a privilege, in such a subtle way as writing, to reveal a story and make an impression that is long remembered and revered.

    To all the hardworking writers out there, keep on writing. You never know when your written thoughts will make someone cry or laugh, or strive to be better than before, or be more compassionate toward others, or be more understanding of a different point of view, or be inspired to take action ... all because of words on a page.

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