I’ve never been so excited for a mail delivery before. I’m more excited than Christmas, more excited than my birthday.
I just want to run across the country and find it and rip open the wrapping and hold it in my hands.
I feel like this is a microscopic portion of what a parent feels like before meeting their child for the first time.
I can’t, can’t, wait.
This is the beginning, this is the end, this is infinite. Yeah, sure, it will probably get lost to the ages, buried under the millions of other books published every year, but maybe to just one person, besides myself, it will be special. It will connect. Someone will relate, in whatever strange way, and they will believe.
I can only hope, and in the mean time, I can only wait.