There’s nothing quite like finally having half a dozen heavy boxes show up at your doorstep, filled with books you’ve written.
It was almost 8pm and the dog started barking. Celia, who’d been waiting all day, dashed to the front door and started jumping up and down. The barking continued as I cleaned the kitchen. At first I forgot what was going on, but Celia’s excited cries quickly reminded me.
“They’re here!” She ran up the stairs to grab my sleeve. “They’re here, Dad!”
“Ok. Let me finish the dishes. Bring ‘em in.”
She and Joshua struggled with the heaviest of the boxes, hauling them up to the dining room table. It wasn’t all the books we ordered, but well over a hundred of them.
We practiced our signatures. She was so unhappy with hers, she put her face in her hands.
“It’s ok,” I said. “You’re eleven.” I did a quick search for images on the internet of fifth grade signatures. They were mostly like hers, but there were also some good ones.
“See?” she complained.
I quickly put the phone away. “You know . . .” I patted her back and gave her a kiss. “People are excited to read the book, and we can’t ship them till you’ve signed them. Besides, they’ll get past that page quickly and get into the story.”
She smiled. “How about I get to use a ballpoint pen instead of that fancy one.”
“Ok.” I shrugged. We put on a Vetiver album and got to signing.
Every book we signed we thought of the next person who’s going to appreciate this book. And we said a blessing over all of our first readers. I couldn’t help but reflect on what a great connection this project has been, in the midst of isolation.
Finally, the rest of the world can join this adventure. An exciting journey both inside the book and out.