A memory of an ever-changing story...

This image is a duplicate of the ones that are forever ingrained in my memories. They wait there, opened, like a field of daisies just waiting to be picked... I could remember walking past this door and seeing a toddler among a sea of books, her tiny pony tail standing high above the pile and her little fingers thumbing through page after page, pretending to read each one. As the years passed, the image stayed the same, but the content changed with the time. My little toddler..., turned into a little girl and that pretend reading, turned into actual reading. Now, when I pass this door, after my home becomes too quiet, I see her sitting in her desk chair, facing the opened windows, with a chapter book in her hands. Her eyes are focused and her body stiff. She's lost somewhere among tree house adventures, bratty first graders, and mysteries. And I stand in this doorway for a few minutes, before I'm even recognized. And in those few minutes, I'm able to relieve the short transformation that seemed to matriculate before my very eyes...