Yesterday mom and I were sorting through boxes and boxes of books and it was like walking into a vault of memories. I promised all the books that very soon they will all have a place on many bookcases in my house.
But in the meantime they're all in totes and boxes. And while I was hefting one over to another side of the room, I thought of my friend who has been dead for 36 days.
It was August 2009 and I had pulled into Silver City, New Mexico with my best friend and fully loaded U-Haul, which was obviously weighted down in the front.
It was the second day I'd ever seen Sam Conn in my life. And he walked over to my U-Haul and said, "You brought all your books, didn't you? And they're in the front of the U-Haul, aren't they?"
I nodded, perplexed.
"How did you know that?" I asked.
He shrugged and laughed.
"We're writers," he replied. "We read books and we take them with us wherever we go."
Yes. Yes, Sam Conn, we do.