J.R. Johnson

Where did my imagination take root? In a yellow-brick house on a quiet country road, filled with bright windows and built-in bookshelves containing a wide range of genres, including science fiction and fantasy.

I remember that house well, not least because a friend recently sent me a listing for it on a rental site. It was odd to see the rooms looking so empty, with none of the life that still populates my memories. Even so, it was good to visit the house again.

And to remember what it was like to look out at the old willow shading the little creek behind our house, and dream.

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