Beyond

Thank you for your supportive comments on my last post. I appreciate each of you more than you can imagine, and I love when people who've read here for a while comment for the first time. It's so good to know you're there. Welcome to this virtual community. The people here have become very dear to me.

That's me on my way to dinner with the book team on my third night in D.C., in the top my cousin calls my carnival outfit. As you can see, I went for it with the lipstick, unabashedly matching the bright. Too loud for sober workplaces, but maybe okay for a celebratory meal. This whole week could not have gone better, even though my entire body was shot through with pain. But every connection along the way was perfect, with me getting to the sidewalk at Union Station on Sunday evening, for example, at the exact moment that my cousin pulled up to drive me to her home. It was all like that.

The proceedings on Monday included a backstage tour of a grand place, which unfortunately I am not at liberty to name. But there was a lot of walking and witnessing where history was made, and I loved every moment. My cousin with whom I stay when I'm in the D.C. area, joined us. The day was a highlight for her, too. Later, I asked her could she tell I was walking through pain during the hours of the tour, and she said no, you did not show that at all. That was a relief to me, because who wants to be the one to derail the party? Not me. When we got back to her house at the end of the day however, I installed myself in her recliner, took some anti inflammatory pills, drank lots of water, and barely moved from that spot all night. 

This was my view, my nephew engaging with his phone in between looking up to chat with his mom and me. He's a teacher in between his music gigs now, and he turns out to be a natural in the classroom. He looks more Native American than ever these days, as his big stop sign Afro has given way to his hair in two braids tied with leather, silver earrings in both ears. He's as handsome as ever, this beloved Jamaican-American-Dakota-Sioux whose spirit is gentle.

By the next day, the pain in my body had reverted to baseline, and the people I was with were now accustomed to my limping penguin gait, I ceased being self-conscious about it, and in fact, I learned that one member of our group was born without sight in one eye, and another was managing a life transition, and I was reminded that we are, each of us, dealing with something hard. Who was it who said that we are all either about to enter a trial, are in the midst of a trial, or have just emerged from a trial, and we must remember always to treat each other tenderly. May I just say for the umpteenth time that I absolutely adore each member of this team I am having the great privilege of working with? I have to pinch myself sometimes. I'm so frickin grateful.

Then! On the train back to New York on Wednesday morning, I got an email from the agent on my last project saying that he was waiting to hear whether Michelle Miller's book Belonging, published last Tuesday, had made the New York Times bestseller list. We'll know this afternoon, he wrote, but it looks good for us. I was in the Amtrak quiet car, so I held in my shout of joy. Michelle has been doing such an awesome job on her book tour. She is warm and unfiltered and vulnerable and generous, she's great TV, and she's been simply magnificent on every stage. I'm so proud of her and happy for all of us who worked on her book, and guess what—Belonging  did in fact land on the NY Times list at the number 11 spot, and in pub week, too!

Michelle called me from L.A. when the news dropped. "You made the list!" she screamed into the phone. "You made the list!" I screamed back. "You wrote the book!" she said. "You're selling the heck out of it!" I responded. And then we both squealed like giddy schoolgirls and agreed, "We make a great team!"

So yes, THAT happened. 

Life is good and pain be damned.