My Most Loved Literary Creation

Chronicles of the Fire Child has arrived, and it’s officially ready for purchase on Amazon! The illustrations, the proofreading, the printing—all of it is finally done! When the proof copy arrived, I hesitated to open the package, remembering the times my earlier books didn’t reach as many readers as I’d hoped. But this one feels different. This time, the main character, Nova, and her three best friends were inspired by the four children who run around my home, with their distinct personalities, quirks, and laughter. Oh, how I love to listen to the laughter of my offspring! I wish I could bottle their giggles in a Mason jar for emergency use, and I trust it would do much more to calm frayed nerves or downtrodden spirits than any over-the-counter or prescription medication.

Since I have yet to invent such a healing restorative for my shelves, this finished masterpiece of childhood imagination is the most desirable alternative. Within each character, I layered what brings my mother’s heart to joyful tears: reckless energy, unparalleled curiosity, big emotions that occasionally explode, confusion with conflicting adult behavior, endless questions, and an insatiable appetite for crafts and candy.

This story is my ode to family, a little reserve of laughter and light to pass along to the next free spirit. I hope it brings warmth to your heart the way it has to mine.

When I wrote the eleventh chronicle, in which the goings-on of Stuffydom are revealed, I sat in my gray recliner and watched unstructured playtime unfold. I transcribed the words my children were using to create their wild world of Stuffydom, where Vivian’s Daughters (not dolls) are obsessed with romance, the dangers of love, the inevitable destruction caused by corrupt dictators that look like purple bears, and the unlikely and embarrassingly unintelligent heroes who save Stuffydom from certain death at the center of the earth. (Although if heroes can save an entire kingdom from death, are they really as unintelligent as previously supposed?)

A realistic representation of Stuffydom.

When I declared Chronicles of the Fire Child my most cherished literary creation, my oldest son doubted my assertion. “Really?” he asked with a quizzical raise of the eyebrows.

Yes, my freckle-faced, blue-eyed wonder of a teenage son with your gangly limbs and love of science and food. Between a memoir filled with miraculous struggle, the Astrid Beeswax books that give voice to my Dickensian fancies, and the delightful collection of chronicles that captures the privilege of watching you and your siblings grow, the choice is easy.

To my children, I will cherish you, love you, protect you, and walk through fire for you and with you until my heart takes its last beat. You are the joy of my life, and, because of you, I hold the honorable title of mother.