I’ve prepared myself to let it go, and I’m happy that I can wrap a bow around it and call it complete, but it’s been a companion of sorts, and to see it finished is a little like another loss, a home moved away from, a body not working quite right, ashes in an urn. But then I remember that any future day could be someone’s first day picking up these books, and I know I never really have to say goodbye because books never die, not when someone’s reading them. And that’s because of you, Dear Reader, so thank you.
