Friday I had to say good-bye to my books. All of them except the one a publisher sent free to make my little girl happy when she lost hers.
All the others...
The Great Brain series scotch-taped together with my ten-year-old hands. My scripts from Camelback Masque & Gavel. Signed editions from authors no longer alive. Reference and research and boxes of manicpixiedreamgirl and Sick that were supposed to be sold this weekend at our first tabling at a Con.
My collection of 4th Edition Hero System rulebooks. My Dark Forces paperbacks, my D&D choose-your-own-adventure books gathered from the Waldenbooks at Thomas Mall, where I'd ridden my bike.
Derro The Warrior, my first "novel," signed by my eighth-grade class. Old papers and stories, typed out on my manual typewriter from 2nd grade through 8th, then my files of dot-matrix printed books like The Guard.
I told them thank you for being there. For being trustworthy and loyal my entire life. I hated to leave them behind, to let them risk being tinder to bring our house down, but we just didn't have time or room to bring them.
Today I got to come home and see them again. They made it. We made it, too.
My Batman poster signed by Kevin Conroy, my M&G Alice in Wonderland poster, my signed poster of Nothing Like The Sun, the show that changed the course of my life. All still here. The books -- all here.
We kept our family safe this weekend, not knowing how things would play out. The worst appears over, for us at any rate. Others are not so fortunate. My wife and kids are healthy and safe. Job well done.
And it's good to see those books again.
It's good to be home.
Take nothing, nothing ever, for granted.
Even the stuff that has to be scotch-taped together.