There are so many wonderful people sharing this trip around the sun with me; so many people I adore - for so many reasons. There are a few I truly respect and admire. There are even fewer I love. Ray Bradbury is all of these things and more.
How do you thank someone who gave you life? In the darkest shadows of my childhood, he met me in the library and together we ran. It didn't matter where he was going, I wanted to be there, too. Suddenly it didn't matter that I was a shy, lonely, abused little girl. I could run through Halloween, befriend a lonely sea serpent, visit Mr. Dark's carnival, and fall in love with Martians. Without him, I would have given up on life.
Although I never met the man, I always felt comforted by the fact he was here on Earth, too. I always hoped that I would have the chance to meet him and tell him how much he meant to me. I was awed by the outpouring of love for this man, but also a little angered, like a jealous lover. No one could love him the way I did. No one knows the person I miss the way I do because the two of us created a magic that no two people could create. The only two "us's" made the only "we" that will ever exist in the universe and that is magic. That is love. That is loss. None of us love or mourn better than anyone else. We are all mourning the magical "we" that will never happen again.
Yesterday I declared, out loud, and to the universe no less, that I was a writer. Today I was supposed to let that marinate before writing in zest tomorrow. Today Ray reminded me, "You fail only if you stop writing."
I love authors and books and libraries, but no one will ever replace my first love, Ray. Yesterday my idol died. He had to catch the apex of Venus on his way home. God speed, sir, until we meet again.