Dear Mr. Bradbury,

Thank you.

Thank you for touching my heart and opening my eyes. For seeing me in ways I didn’t yet understand in my younger years. For showing me new worlds and new ways of seeing our world.

So many of your stories will be forever etched into my consciousness…

The tale of the man who drowned himself in the endless rain of Venus, “sitting on a rock with his head back, breathing the rain.”

The April witch, Cecy, who could flit from being to being but longed to fall in love, even if it meant giving up her powers.

The mechanical house dying after a nuclear holocaust, shadows of its family etched against its blackened siding, calling out the date and time to no one as it burned.

The Martian — the chameleon — who changed to be who others longed for and died in the maelstrom of their conflicting desires.

And the Rocket Man who died when his rocket fell into the sun, just when he had promised his family to stay home with them after one last trip.

Heart-breaking. Truthful. Painful. Gorgeous. Raw. Philosophical.

Your passionate commitment to envisioning the future has changed many lives for the better.

Your words made me think.

They made me feel.

I thank you.

Photo taken by Will Hart, used with permission under Creative Commons licensing