In a field near a stream there was a spot that held a child’s hand. It was a spot so peaceful and serene that it belied the chaos that surrounded it. The child would sit for hours transported by stories of heroines; a pilot before her time, teachers leading the blind and then in turn being led, a girl with unimaginable bravery hidden away, Stories of compassion, adventure, strength and courage.
All these stories treasured in a spot that was a magical as the stories themselves. On the edge of a field near a quiet stream was a tree, a magnificent tree, a massive oak tree that towered over everything around. For many a summer it was the shelter for a little girl. A place to go to become lost in the magic of a book and to wonder of the possibilities beyond the shade of its leaves.