Dear Reader,
When I was a kid, I woke up from a nap one day and found my mother emptying the guts of our vacuum cleaner onto a newspaper. I was convinced she’d killed it, and I was inconsolable. Turns out she was only dumping the dirt, but what did I know? I was only three.
I’m sure I was emotionally connected to that upright vacuum cleaner; otherwise, why would I have cared so much? At the time, I was only a child. Our vacuum seemed friendly, with that little bright light on its face, and all-powerful. It had a bag made of shiny blue material, and I thought it was pretty. Everyone else in our house was tall, but it was just my size.
When friends told me of their grandson, who is fascinated with vacuum cleaners, who wants to play with them, and take them apart, and draw them, I recognized something of myself. Thus I created Phoebe.
Love doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The bad things that happen to us cannot be swept away. And sometimes the stars don’t have all the answers.
But when love comes along, it has the power to change our lives. I hope you enjoy the story of Eric and Molly and Phoebe, who learned that lesson in a very special way.
Love,
Pamela Browning
P.S. Please visit me at my Web site:
www.pamelabrowning.com.