With the exception of Harry Potter and a few other series; His Dark Material, The Lord of the Rings, A Song of Ice and Fire... (I'm realizing as I'm typing this that I must have a thing for the fantasy world 🦄🤷), I am NOT what one would consider a reader. In fact, I'm sure someone can quote me as saying that I hate it. This year has been rough, to say the least. I was talking to my sister, Marika, sometime in the late summer. Her and I are so different, so typically when we offer advice to one another, it's not exactly what either of us are looking for. But this time was different. Anytime the boys were asleep for the night, I was alone. And when I was alone, I felt sad, desperate, and obviously lonely. I needed some sort of comfort, something else in my life to focus on besides worrying about my boys, besides dwelling on my divorce. This time when Marika suggested a couple books to read, books that had really helped someone she knew, through a tough time. The s...