Acknowledgments

Oh yes, let us begin here: dessert before dinner. With you who, let’s admit it, turn to these pages almost as soon as you crack the spine of the book. You who turn here not looking for the polyphonic end notes, the whispered asides of the Author’s Notes, the final chords of an epilogue. You who reject the dry, stale crackers of disappointment: the Index. 

Let us begin here, rubbing our hands together. Let us bring on the all-encompassing-arms-of Oprah-energy: you get some thanks! And you! 

Thank you to those who read these spaces like gossip columns. Those who say a little prayer for the people whose relationships have changed from draft to publication. (Ex-lovers, divided friends, estranged relatives.) 

Thank you to the yearbook-signing-ness of it all: the cryptic inside jokes, the shout-outs. To you who notice the friend groups across books and wishes that you were part of the cool kids club.

Thank you to those who revel in this deliciously buzzing space at the middle of the writer’s Venn diagram. To the dinner parties assembled here: cabins of family reunions, whole classrooms of students, meeting rooms of colleagues, office suites of editors, publicity and marketing teams. Thank you to city blocks of patient and supportive parents and partners bringing steaming cups of tea and bowls of crunchy snacks. Shelters full of cats and dogs curled up at writers’ feet. Babies, toddlers, children offering cupped hands of sunlit inspiration and slightly sticky papers with scribbled rainbows.

To you who bless the elementary school teachers and public librarians and independent booksellers: extra pages of gratitude.

To you who scour these pages, these mini-memoirs, to see who’s there and who’s not there. In case I forgot you, please forgive me. 

Thank you to the readers who love to see their own name in these pages. I have made a space for you to write your name right here: ______________________.

Thank you to the avid readers and writers of this genre. This space where the writer lets their shoulders down, takes off their masks and shrugs off their capes. Puts down the pen or closes their laptop, rubs their temples for a few seconds. Takes a breath, looks back and around at the universe that has brought them here. 

This space where a reader like me gets to see where the writer is planted, where the writer is rooted, who composes the compost that enriches their soil. This space of love and abundance where we see the garden from which the work has grown. 

And speaking of roots, let’s talk about the meanings of acknowledgments: accepting the truth of something; writing a letter that something has been received; showing that someone has noticed someone else for something good.

I see you. Thank you for seeing me.