Prized possessions

I’m not known to collect things just to have them. I appreciate a clean spareness so I can think. It’s something that my hubby and I clash over occasionally as he’s sentimental and has a fondness for knickknacks and stuff that connect him to an earlier day. Me? I’m more of a here and now kind of gal, but I do have a few things that stick with me: the hourglass I bought when I was sixteen, the staff I cut when I was twelve, the candle that was on my mentor’s thank-you cake when we celebrated the end of our entire critique group going to a big writer’s conference. There’s a recorder/flute to remind me of old school Dr. Who, and a pin cushion to remind me of my mom. You know . . . stuff.

It’s rare that something pops up that makes it into my permanent collection. This, though? This will be forever on my wall.

I have “trophies” of past covers to remind me of what came before, but this one tops them all because there is a tiny piece of everyone who worked on it, everyone who put their talents and energy into it, an acknowledgment that I was part of something bigger. Creating a book, much less a 13 book series, truly takes a village, and I always thought that that relationship was too easy to overlook. But this? This made me cry.