In just two short days, I fly to Chicago for a whirlwind one-night trip to participate in the book reading for "P.S. What I Didn't Say: Unsent Letters to Our Female Friends." There, I'll be meeting--at last--the anthology's wonderful editor, Megan McMorris, and three of the other writers whose essays are included in the book. We'll be promoting the book at the independent bookstore The Book Cellar. SO EXCITING!
But what I don't think I've told you all yet is that one of my very best friends in the entire world is coming on this trip with me, meeting me in Chicago for 24 hours, in an incredible act of friendship that seems befitting of the event--a bookstore reading for a book about female friendships--and, also, a little ironic considering the topic of my particular essay in the book (someone who was anything but a real friend).
My friend V. lives far away from both me and Chicago. But she's the owner, with her husband, of an incredibly successful small-business franchise, which means she can sometimes set her own schedule and get away for a couple of days mid-week. And, more to the point, she's the most generous-hearted person I've ever known. She offered to fly to Chicago to meet me, be in the bookstore audience at my reading, and spend one night in the city hanging out with me, and fly back home the next day, when I leave. There is no way to put into words how much it means to me to have my friend V. along on this trip. She makes everything even better just by being a part of it. And, because we haven't lived in the same state since 2004, I miss her terribly, every day. I'm so excited for our reunion in Chicago, and so honored that she chose to support me in my first publication in a book. How will I ever repay her for this act of friendship? I can't imagine.
Between now and Wednesday, I'll be busy with my girls' school schedules, various appointments of my own, and getting my household set up to hum along without me for two days. In other words, I won't be writing here. But I'll tell you all about it later this week when I get back. Wish me luck, and think of me on Wednesday night, when I'll be joyfully reading my essay to a bookstore audience. With V. in the front row, I'm sure.