Daughters, Agnes, and Away We Go!
Yesterday was a very interesting sort of day. Three things happened that on the surface don't appear to be related but being a writer I am bound by some law of metaphorlogical alchemy to come up with an association. The first part of this equation was that my daughter, Emily, took her first airplane ride. She went to visit my other daughter, her sister, Rebekah in Colorado. She spent all day packing and preparing for her maiden voyage. I went over the process with her over and over knowing that once she got inside the airport she could very well forget everything I told her. I kept thanking God for cell phones. Anyway, three o'clock rolled around and we were set to go to the airport. I opened the front door and sitting on the stoop was a large brown box. I knew in an instant that the box contained my books--my author's copies of The Prayers of Agnes Sparrow. So there I was, about to take Emily Kate to the airport and wanting to open the box and see my books. But time was not on my side. I had only a minute to rip open the box, take a book and load up the car. I would have to admire my book in the car. Not what I had planned. I wanted to be alone with my new book for a minute at least. I wanted to sit with it and feel it and smell it and read some of it and savor it's tastiness all by myself. (That's how I roll). But no, that was not to be. I gave a copy to Em to give to Rebekah and off we went. But not before I had my son safely deposited at his friend's house. And alas, my book sat unopened in my handbag. We arrived at the airport and I walked Emily through the process as far as security. Hugged and kissed and reassured her that, "no the plane will not crash." Did my best to point her in the correct direction and even found an instant friend to help her through security. Thank you lady, whoever you are. That done I went back to the car but unfortunately I still had no time because I had to go pick up a friend and head out to a bookstore where I was meeting a NY TIMES BEST SELLING author for Cokes before her book signing. So I shoved another copy of Agnes into my bag, thinking, um. I wonder if Mary Kay Andrews would take a copy and read it.
Off I went to the book store with my friend, my book peeking out of my bag teasing me. We arrived at the store and waited for the author. I decided to look at my book and reached into my bag only to discover that my water bottle, the fancy expensive one made without BHP had leaked all over my fresh new Agnes. It was soaked, along with everything else in my bag, which is pretty much everything! CRAP! Mary Kay arrived, asked about my book and I handed her a sopping went copy. I apologized profusely and she said, "it's okay." Yikes. The first time I give anyone my book who is not a family member and it's swollen to three times its original size from BHP-free H2O. Crap!
Now, how does al this relate? Well I've been giving it some thought and I suppose it has to do with journeys and destinations and frazzled nerves. Writing a book is scary but I couldn't NOT do it. I had to take that trip. Which I did. Emily really needed to go on that trip. She needs to spend time with her sister and yes, she made it and called me and told me how much she enjoyed the ride. I knew she would. In a way we both embarked on a new adventure yesterday. And I'm kind of glad it happened on the same day. Even if the satisfaction had to be delayed.
As for giving a NY TIMES BEST-SELLING author a sopping wet copy for my book? Not seeing the lesson in this one yet. I think it was just God reminding me that He still likes to screw with me sometimes.