I am blessed by wonderful friends. A number of them are women young enough to be my daughters. Today, I opened my mailbox to find a letter from one of them, Kelli Jones. It was a fan letter, a love letter, a blast of encouragement strong enough to make me vow to write every single day for the rest of my life.
Kelli was responding to my post about the 21st anniversary of Maya’s death. I need to tell you that Kelli is pregnant with her third child, a son, due a month from now. She and her husband Gordon already have two beautiful little girls, so for Kelli (as for all young parents who read Swimming with Maya) the book is an invitation to imagine the unimaginable. I am in awe of young mothers like Kelli who read the book and live inside its raw emotion – they are brave!
Kelli, Rahwa, and baby Naomi
The post about Maya inspired Kelli to write me this: “It brought me back to the feeling I had when I read your book and entered the world of your reality. I can just never imagine – yet these feelings give me glimpses as to what I hope to selfishly never experience.”
Amen, sister! No one should experience the death of a child. But millions have – and will.
“How you intellectualize, spiritualize, and translate your human thoughts and emotions for us all to read is just absolutely brilliant,” Kelli writes. “I was so blown away when I finished Swimming with Maya by your outlook, perspective, philosophy – whatever you want to call it – on this world that you have me as a loyal fan, forever.”
A letter like this is every writer’s dream. As writers, we work blindly, often unaware of our readers. When a reader takes the time and trouble to tell us how our words have affected her – well, it is beyond satisfying. Having readers like Kelli makes every hour spent in front of the computer screen struggling for the right word, or the perfect image, so worth it.
Writing is hard, lonely work. But also the most satisfying work I have ever done. Bringing Maya back to life on the page is, for me, a magic, sacred act. And when someone recognizes that accomplishment it sets my heart on fire.
“Thank you for working through all your years of struggle to be with us here today because our lives would surely lack if you were not present. So thank you for fighting.”
She concludes her letter like this: “Thank you as well for raising another amazing daughter – do I ever love and appreciate your Meghan. I’m so thankful to have her in my life.”
Kelli and Meghan are friends whose husbands were best friends in high school, whose daughters are the same age, and who inspire me every day as I watch them bravely set out on the riskiest venture ever – bearing and raising children.
Meghan and Kelli’s daughter, Ophelia
Young women! You are the fighters. You have years of this journey ahead of you and no one knows how it will turn out. I had Maya for 19 years – and even knowing how it ended for her – I would do it all over again. I’ve had Meghan for 32 years and I surely hope to leave this earth before she does. And, lucky me, I get to relive Meghan’s and Maya’s childhoods as I watch my granddaughter Lucia grow up.
Little did I know that motherhood and writing would converge for me. I often feel like a tall, old redwood tree – the bark is deeply grooved now but oh those branches reach for the sunlight! On a day like this, with Kelli’s letter in my hand, I am so grateful I am still standing.
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You’re such a beautiful woman. I love you.
Dearest Eleanor,
You express these thoughts so beautifully. Yes, we writers are indeed blessed to have fans write to us, and that we are still standing to appreciate their wonderful words.