Of princesses and real life

I'm at a coffee shop, listening to Christmas music while I grade my students' papers. The holiday sounds, the busy atmosphere of people coming in and out, the energizing smell of roasted coffee and the endless pile of work to do, for some strange reason, remind me of my undergraduate days. I remember spending countless hours in my school's library, studying, daydreaming, hiding from the masses, because, believe it or not, being surrounded by books makes me feel safe.

I grew up with my nose stuck in books. I loved to read. And I still do. But what I read now might be slightly different from what I used to read back in the day.

I loved fairy tales, just like any little girl would. I was fascinated with stories about foreign and beautiful places, where princes traveled across the seas to find their princesses. Or the stories where good always triumphs over evil. Where the poor suffers and one day teaches the rich a lesson. Yes, I also liked those kinds of stories. And I still do, perhaps because I think of my life itself as a fairy tale, as a work of art in the making. A story that will have a happy ending.

"Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale." ~Hans Christian Andersen