Today’s Weekend Writing Warriors entry is also from The Care and Feeding of Griffins, very early on in the book, when we first meet Taryn as a young girl on the library steps where she has met a certain singing gypsy. (By the way, that really is only eight sentences. I double- and triple-checked and even I am appalled.)
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Apart from that, Taryn was aware (if only peripherally) that asking if you could see tiny dragons was a question that demanded tact, and Taryn knew (again, peripherally) that she lacked the vocabulary for tact. If she asked anything, it would end up coming out of her as, “What’s the matter with you? Are you congenitally incapable of seeing dragons or what?” and then this whole great day would be ruined.
So she let it go.
She accepted the dragons, accepted that her mom wasn’t interested in them, accepted that perhaps Mom couldn’t even see the dragons and that the reasons for this were unknowable and possibly distressing, and so she just let the matter drop and went home. But she saw them, whether her mom could or not, Taryn saw the dragons. Long after she grew up, sometimes she would see a dark-haired vaguely-gypsy-looking woman and think, ‘There really were dragons,’ and then smile, not really believing (and yet believing unreservedly) that she had seen them.
In any event, Taryn had her Redmond Library card for only six years before she moved with her family to Oregon, and by then she had mostly forgotten about the dragons and already had the egg.