“And sailed back over a year
and in and out of weeks
and through a day
and into the night of his very own room
where he found his supper waiting for him
and it was still hot”
— Where The Wild Things Are
As brilliant reader Jay points out, it is all but impossible to be of a certain age, to read those words, and to not feel like what follows is the closing of a book, the tucking of a blanket, and a kiss followed by the words, “I love you.” RIP Maurice Sendak.