The magazine, Rhythm of the Home, accepted my essay. The publication went live (great expression I learned from one of the editors) Thursday morning last week and my particular essay is available here. I would highly recommend checking out the entire magazine. I've read through slowly, savoring each piece, as this, the editors announced, will be their last magazine.
Receiving an email from RotH that said "yes" gave me such a shot of joy. But people. People are the ones who amaze. Because so many people, hordes to me, keep showing up to support it and encourage it along. I'm still a little punch-drunk from the number of relatives, friends, and friends of friends who made a point online to respond to this essay. It was nearly a day's worth of being Tina Fey or Anna Quindlen, in my own small, Tennessee, fifteen-likes-on-Facebook kind of way. I am so appreciative to people who let me or a person close to me know how their feelings on the subject. The soft and kind critique buoyed my nervous, fragile spirit.
Now I'm posting this here because I also have a strange, jangly kind of nerves about writing again at all. This essay might be all I ever say in a publication again, but I'm hopeful that won't the be the case. In order to make room for that to happen, I have to rip off the band-aid and send something else out in the world. Even if it's only a bit piece to say "I'm so scared to try another one! I really like the view of being quietly and softly well-received. I might never come down again!"and then laugh manically.
Thank you, everyone, who ready my piece. Whatever your feelings, that you took the time to read it… well, it felt good to be read.