May Flowers

May arrived without realizing it: For a week straight, heavy April rains continued. Then, someone must’ve elbowed May and whispered, “Wake up! You’re on!” And May did.

The sun came out, and Kentucky welcomed her with the kind of hospitality we’re known for.

My husband and daughter strung our little boat slip with white lights, in anticipation of long summer nights.

The flowers lifted their heads once more.

The baby birds on our back porch learned to fly.

School let out for the summer, and I was so busy having fun that I forgot to worry about my writing—almost.

My literary agent called. He thought my latest novel was my best work yet! My best work yet! He sent copies to Random House and HarperCollins and all the other big, important publishing houses! (Look out, Miss Haughty High Heels at the bookstore!)

I’m gonna learn to fly yet!

But until then, I’m gonna enjoy life right here on the ground. I’m gonna stay up late and sleep in, read and write, garden and giggle, cook out and catch fireflies, have picnics and popsicles, and I’m gonna revel in one of my favorite sounds on earth: the whir of my husband’s fishing pole being cast.

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