The Note Pressed Into My Hand

When you do school visits, there are many pleasures — a few quiet moments spent in conversation with a librarian, the roaring laughter of a large group of kids, the student artwork in the hallways, a teacher who says something nice. It’s all too much for me to describe.

Today I cleaned out the large, stuffed book bag that I carry on school trips. In one zippered pocket, crumpled in the bottom, a found a folded sheet of looseleaf paper. A note. I remembered the blonde-haired girl who came up to me with it in her hand. A second-grader, I’d guess. I’d spoken to her grade earlier in the day and now, evidently, she’d sought me out. The girl did not talk, but looked at me with something close to awe. She pressed the paper into my hand, smiled shyly, and quickly walked away, if only because running was not permitted in school.

I don’t remember where we were, which school, which state. It was just one of those little moments that happen along the way when you are an author, and when you’ve been blessed to connect with a reader. Some kid somewhere who picked up your book.

Thank you for the note, Avairee. I LOVE IT.

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