Reflections from the Rabbit Hole

It’s hard to believe now as I write this, snuggled into a booth at my neighborhood coffee-haunt that just this past weekend I was cruising down Kingman Blvd. on my bike.

I’m hardly surprised now after living in Iowa for nearly nine years by the fickle weather that blows across the plains. Perilous climate predictions aside, given a 60 degree day in late February, I’m more than happy to don a pair of shorts, even if only for a day and reap the benefits of some extra vitamin D.

Frankly it’s a welcome relief to see the snowdrifts that bolster the sides of the road from November to April slowly shrink, the snowmen in neighboring yards morph into abstract sculpture.

These days when life often appears an odd amalgamation of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and an Orwellian dystopia, there is comfort in the simple fact that winter will eventually fade into spring. That at least, is a fact you can trust.

“If it’s not sipping from a tincture labeled ‘Drink me,’ then it’s sending that bottle out into the world with the message, ‘Read me.’ ”

And trust I have learned, is a supplement that writers and illustrators need in large doses. Every story is an exercise in faith. If it’s not sipping from a tincture labeled Drink me, then it’s sending that bottle out into the world with the message, Read me.

When we act upon that seed of an idea that’s been germinating in our minds, we embark on our own journey down the rabbit hole full of plot twists and outlandish characters and paths with no clear destination. There is little certain about the road to publication.

This coming spring, as I prepare one story for submission and begin anew with another, I am reminded how I started down this road in the first place. It’s a journey that began with a single conviction– a belief in the fact that this is what I am meant to do.

It’s a simple truth. A truth as strong and real as the warm breeze against my skin on a February afternoon.

Going the Distance

For the first time in five years, I did not wake before the sun on a Sunday morning to briskly walk down to Court Ave. just in time for the starting gun. Correction: I did wake early this past Sunday, but it wasn’t to join the thousands of other runners hopping from foot to foot to stay warm awaiting the start of the annual IMT half marathon or Principle 5K.

No, this year in lieu of traveling the respective 13.1 or 3.1 miles my friend Emma and I traveled 115 miles by car to visit our friend, Taylor, who is finishing her last year of law school at the University of Iowa.

Ironically, though I may not have trot my requisite mileage, I did continue one tradition– spending the day with good friends. Taylor my former (and steadfast) running buddy and I spent our first years after college training together for what eventually amounted to four half marathons in two years. Ours is a friendship (and running record!) that blossomed in the years following our graduation, for though the student population was small, we both revolved in different circles.

Emma and I on the other hand boast a slightly longer history, beginning in our first studio class as art majors. And we’ve spent many more hours traveling by bus or car daytripping to Minneapolis and Kansas City to drink bottomless cups of coffee at hip diners and meandering through each city’s iconic art museums.

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“What matters is what happens in between.”

The truth is though it’s not the miles traveled or the years of acquaintance that are the measure of a strong friendship. I’m reminded as I work on my current picture book (which is at its heart, all about friendship) that adult relationships are very unlike the alliances we create as children (be it with other kids, or in Marcella’s case, a monarch butterfly!). Without the touchstone of school each year to bring us back together it takes effort to stay in touch, be it via text or in person.

The miles, the years, they will pass by. What matters is what happens in between. We may not text every day, we may not meet over coffee every month, but when we do, I always look forward to filling that space, to closing the distance in between.