Today, I woke to a new reality. I am an author. No longer working on my first book. No longer wondering whether I will ever get it finished and out into the world. Today, Widow: A Journey Toward Life is published. My words are ready for readers I may never meet. What an extraordinary thought to begin one of the most exciting days of my life.
“This is the day the Lord has made.” Rejoice and be glad. Oh, yes. I intend to.
With so many things to do, my minutes are planned out. The brisket is on the barbecue. The food will be ready to pick up at Raley’s around noon. A custom cake with a picture of my book will take center stage. I can hardly wait to see it. There is something wonderfully hard to believe about ordering a cake decorated with the cover of a book you wrote.
Decorations flutter around the house. Books and books and more books. That’s the theme. After months of checking words on a screen, today I get to enjoy seeing them celebrated here at Winterpast. Soon, family and friends will arrive, bringing their voices and laughter into a home that has held so many quiet mornings of writing.
Through all the preparations, I want to remember to stop and take it in. Look around the room. Listen to the conversations. Enjoy the people who came to share this day. There will always be another plate to fill or something to straighten. This particular November 11 will happen only once.
I hope the book finds its way to someone who needs it. A widow sitting alone, wondering how she will get through another ordinary day without the person she loved. I remember that woman. I wrote with her in mind. Today, I can finally offer her these pages and hope she finds some companionship in them.
And there are more pages waiting to be written. On May 9, 2027, my second book will be released, with plans for two more after that. Those are just the titles planned for next year. Apparently, seven decades of living have left me with plenty to write about. Now that I have started, the stories keep asking for their turn.
Never again will I give up my keyboard for a crochet hook. Somewhere along the way, writing became part of how I live. It gives me a reason to pay attention, to remember, to laugh at myself, and to look forward to the next morning.
Writing has given me life. Writing has given me hope. Writing has helped me heal. And today, it has given me a milestone I once could only imagine.
There is brisket to check and a celebration to get ready for. But first, I am going to sit here for one more moment and let these words sink in.
Today, I am an author.
Writing is life.
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