Every Party Ends With Guns and Song

Have you ever been in a place so comfortable that you wanted to leave? That was the party out at the Bilbo place to me, lit by a small bonfire with dancing shadows of everyone I had known. Familiar faces, ghosts that I had insulated myself against for so long in the small shell of the library were popping up everywhere. Small conversations happened all around me and I sat back and listened.

Old Friends

Everyone has their period of awkwardness. Mine lasted a good long time, right up until I was about thirteen. You could say I was a late bloomer, but that’s not really true. Physically I have always been tall, growing steadily from the time I was born until I reached six foot three at fifteen. No growth spurt, just inch by inch until I stopped. I think my mother was glad about that as my sister would not wear the hand-me downs that dropped off me each year.

No, my awkwardness was inward. When I hit thirteen, I “came out of my shell” as they say. Found friends and began to get more active. Before then, I could be classified as “that smart kid who doesn’t talk much.” To paint a picture: I was in the remedial reading class rather than the gifted program that my mother helped teach because when they tested me I did not seem to have verbal skills. True story, the librarian’s kid did not talk much.