18 Days…But Who Is Counting?

Today was a day that every author dreams of. Today the UPS man in his cute little brown shorts and gargantuan truck pulled up in front of my home. He hopped out (because it’s a BIG truck) bounded up the walk (because they are incredibly physically fit those very cute UPS men) and handed me an envelope. Not a little white envelope, not even a slim manilla envelope…no, no, no..he handed me a padded envelope. A padded envelope with a return address…the return address of my publisher. And I had a Britney Spears moment (without the high heels) because at that moment I did, what every Mother in America fears, (and after you’re on your second thinks is impossible) I almost…repeat almost…dropped the baby. Forgive me my beloved cherub but I did, I did, I felt so giddy I almost forgot you were in my arms. BUT no, the mothering instinct is strong and although I was reaching, nay grabbing for the padded envelope and ripping it open (while my lovely toddler sweetly asked) “Mommy can I open the package?” And with a gutteral growl and smile continued to shred the envelope finally winning my way to THE PRIZE, yes the prize. My first book, in hard back. My name, my title, my words, my dedication, my acknowledgements…and then my tears. Yes tears. Tears of joy. Tears of gratititude.
“Why is Mommy crying?”
“She’s happy,” my husband assured our daughter.
“Mommy’s not sad?” she asked.
“No Mommy is very very happy,” he said. “It’s Mommy’s book, see. It’s Mommy’s book.”
“Oh, Mommy’s book. Let me see, let me see. Oh, look it’s Mommy, a picture of Mommy.”
“Yes, and look there is your name.”
“Where? Mommy read it.”
“Okay. Finally, to Chad Henderson, Hayden, and Grace, the true believers in my life. With their love and support all things are possible. They are my every wish and my every dream come true.” I read to my daughter. “See right there, it’s your name.”
“Ahh, that’s nice.” She said and hopped on her princess bouncy ball (with pictures of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Jasmine, Snow White, Belle, and Arielle) and boinged toward the kitchen.
“They’ll never know you as anything else,” my husband said, taking the baby from my arms. (Obviously fearful that with my newfoudn status of author I was now unable to hold our child)
“Anything else?”
“As agent or lawyer. To them, you’ll always be a writer.”
“I guess your right.” I said. I watched my daughter bounce through the kitchen. And inside, I knew, as I’ve always known, that being a writer is exactly what I am and always will be. And now, I guess, everyone knows it too…or at least they will…in 18 days. April 10…HGC…bookstores…April 10.
xo
Maggie