Every time it rains I think about that space, and those many hours I spent reading by myself. It's been raining in DC for two weeks straight. Two. Weeks. I'm not a fan of prolonged gross weather, but it's hard for me to completely hate it because I have lovely memories of reading in my little book fort. It was just me, the rain, and a wonderful story.
I'm older now, but I still get the urge to make a book fort on rainy days. I want to drape a blanket over chairs and a table, and stuff the space with pillows and more blankets. There's something about being isolated from the world with a good book that makes reading even more enjoyable. It creates a sense that it's just you and the words on the page; nothing else is important.
Reading in a book fort is an immersive experience; an experience that is harder to achieve as we get older. One of these days, after a long work day, The Husband will come home to find me hidden under the dining room table. I'll skip the "No Boys Allowed" sign. If you're reading, you're welcome in my book fort.