I guess I’ve garnered and spent at least 6 minutes of my Andy Warhol-limit of 15 minutes of fame. The “Finalist” surprise came just before the wedding weekend so I missed it. Days passed before I could open my computer. Vows under the tumultuous summer-to-fall teasing storm clouds in an almost sunset! Such a background in the Elena Gallegos amphi-theater made for a tender and beautiful exchanging of vows. I have a new son-in-law! My family has expanded and our German in-laws are as friendly and compatible as I could dream for. If life were a contest, I’d be labeled winner all over the place.
But it’s not, not a contest. It’s a coming together to celebrate and “finalist” status is one of those balls tossed around, or the storms that hit the ground, the bingo on your card. We share those honors. What’s an author without an audience? Without readers? We all have roles to play and live, and so today I celebrate the joy in being alive, still in the game. A feather in my cap or a one up on the scoreboard is a flicker of light, and that light, added to yours, makes the paths visible, the dark less dangerous. Uh oh—give me a little prize and I babble forth like a brook trying to be a river. But what the heck. Light those candles. Dance that dance.