I have such a love/hate relationship with it. In my mind it exists as a poor testament to the person I hope to be. It's pretty sarcastic. Possibly petty. And one large swath of the plot is regrettable only because it was unkind. And yet, I found it today. Literally, I thought no more were in existence in my home. Written on 2006, I haven't thought about it in years.
In fact, one fall a friend of mine from New Jersey texted me out of the blue: "YOU WROTE A BOOK???"
I responded, "Oh yeah...I completely forgot about that."
Hilariously he responded, "Uh. Mona...that's not something people forget about!"
But I did. The content, the meaning of it, the vibrancy of it had faded in all that came after it. Leaving its existence on the other side of a lifetime ago for me. Forgotten. Best left in obscurity.
Author House frequently contacted me to ask if I wanted more copies, and I didn't. They kept contacting me to ask if they could remarket it. And I said no. No. Leave it where it is.
But paging through it today, I kind of forgot. The parts that I didn't like and the parts that I thought were unfair had become the highlight--or the low light as the case may be. But I forgot there are sweet stories. Sweet stories of childhood and friendship. I forgot how much I did honor my friends in the book.
Maggie has been wanting to read the book for a while. Today, I tossed her the copy I had found. She looked at it, hugged it, looked at it again. Then she looked up at me and said, "I've always wanted to read this!"
I said, "Well, I think I'm not as nice in it as you wish me to be."
She waved me away, "Oh, I'm sure you are fine."
I started to close her bedroom door, then popped it back open. "But maybe I'm not as unfortunate as I remember either."
She rolled her eyes, all teenage years and youth's uncanny wisdom. "None of us ever are, Mom."
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~And look for a new book out in summer 2020!