By the time you read this, everything will be riding on Ken Follett.

No pressure, Ken.

But I need you now.

A copy of Pillars of the Earth has been sitting unopened beside my desk for the past month.  Over Christmas break I read the prequel to it, The Evening and the Morning.  I was reminded how travel and adventure are accessible to me in books. Unlike real travel, great books take me through time, into worlds that I could never explore in any other way.

When I am experiencing an exceptional novel, I connect with more than the story.  I form deeper memories of my life in that moment:  the delicious feeling of leaving my family and their digital interests behind on the other side of the house to slip into my bedroom, a space stripped of noise and distractions.  Blanketed in silence, I feel the pillows behind my back as I sit up in bed with my story, I relish the glow of the lamp on my pages, the crackle and pop of a log on the fire, the sigh of the dogs as they pack in around me.  The things that are commonplace in the absence of a good book become more vivid, deepening the pleasure I take as the story advances.  My memories grow more rich, as though I were truly on a new adventure.

When this post goes live, we will have embarked on a real adventure.  My friend Justin, who owns Green Wolf Brewing down in Middleburgh, says we’re on a trip to see Santa.

We’re headed to the arctic circle.

This trip has been given us as a gift in so many ways.  My “adopted” brother and sister-in-law, knowing the long-time dream I’ve had of staring up at the Northern Lights, have booked a week for our families at an aurora borealis observatory in the far north of Norway.  The gift is greater than just that.  Nate and Jenn are here, able to stay in our house, cover the farm chores, tend the fires and care for the dogs and cats and the jungle of house plants that has sprouted up since the pandemic began.  Corey is taking care of their house, so they can be down here, worry-free.  Mom and Dad are healthy.    My brother Sean is coming home with my niece Mila, so they won’t feel so lonely in our absence.  The airfare and lodging and meals are all covered.  The northern lights are waiting.

We just have to get through 24 hours of masked travel, repeated nasal swabs, lines, and airport layovers to get there…then repeat to go home.  And in between, we need to will the clouds to part and the night sky to shine through, in hopes that there will be at least one endless night where that mystical glow will reveal itself to us.

And if the flights are delayed and Covid disrupts and the weather doesn’t cooperate, well…

I’ve got 982 pages of Ken’s wizardry, and one week to immerse myself in it, certain to make whatever we face glorious in my memories.