The smell of a book, new or old, holds strong memories for me. Sitting in the corner of my grandma’s guest bedroom huddled on the floor trying to select the next literary adventure. I have collected my favorite books since I was a child. In recent years, I have added to the overstuffed bookshelves with the series that entranced me then. It is the memories of my childhood that inspire me to hope that when my niece and nephew visit they will be drawn to the shelves as I was. Some of the greatest adventures I ever went on only occurred inside of my head. Living off the woods in my pretend boxcar. Bravely fighting the dragons under the basement stairs. The creativity I luxuriate in today, was fostered by the heroes and heroines tucked away in the pages.