I want to thank everyone for their good wishes. Please know that it meant a great deal to me.
My mom’s still in the hospital, but better than she was a few days ago. The trick now, of course, is to get her out before she picks up something ELSE (if you’ve ever been in a hospital, you know it’s not safe to stay for long, lol!). :nonono:
I’m also still under the weather, but life—and bill collectors—wait for no one. So, moving right along………………………..

It came without whistles. It came without bells.
It came without fireworks, lights or bombshells.
It came not in dreams, like the manna of yore,
It came through the mail—just showed up at the door! :shock:

No, Dr. Seuss didn’t visit my house today.
But I received a small supply of my first print book, Let’s Pretend, that I’d ordered from Amazon.

It came as I was steeling my sick self to go to work. I’m a little feverish, coughing, and I’ve produced enough mucus to float the Titanic. But there it is—a small box placed on my front porch.

I’ve got all of five minutes before I have to leave.
Five.
Five minutes to take a quick peek at something I’ve worked toward for a longggg time.
Open box. Remove book.
The cover is shiny and vibrant red, and I rub my hands across it. It’s real. Really it is. And there, right at the bottom, is my name.
On the cover of my book.

So I give it a quick hug, hold it to my heart and smile. It’s late, and I’ve missed too much work with illness. No time for sentiment, or celebrating, or remembering the work involved or all the doubts. The sucky day job awaits.

But one silly tear did manage to escape. And yes, I’m sure it was just one. One tear.
It just happened to be a really big one, and it spread out a bit and lasted for a few minutes dammit anyway and wouldn’t dry up no matter what I did.

And it may be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and in the publishing world. Only one of many of my little dreams. Some still dreamed, some nearly forgotten.

But today I got to hold this one in my hand.