It’s quite amazing to me that a lifetime of my mom’s poetry, thus far, can fit in this tiny piece of plastic.
My brother once told me something like, things will generally take twice as long as you expect them to, and be half as profitable. In this case, the time estimate is vastly underestimated … but I wouldn’t trade the time we’ve spent getting this together for anything in the world. Literally.
It has been a big project. We’ve spent many, many hours, finding, reading, and editing her poems … and pondering semicolons, commas, and deciding whether it should say “her or the”. Masks and distance (some days admittedly more successfully than others) added to the mix.
We are excited to be sending her writing off soon, to a woman in North Carolina who helps poets put books together (because after weeks of splashing around in the kiddie pool, we decided we were in over our heads).
We are excited about the next steps … and happy to have moms words so tidily encapsulated on this flash.
I “can not” wait to hold this book in my hands.
(ps, I have missed writing, here, in my own sweet space. life has been busy and I’ve composed hundreds of posts in my head. true to ruth stone, once they drift past me and out the window, they go in search of someone else to write them. it’s okay. i have time. i will write again.)
Take special good care, love,
Jane
You will continue to write, beautifully, as you hve in the past. “Right Message, Wrong Addressee” Remember that?
You have been too busy aiding and abetting me in my projects.