A Dream Coming True
Saturday, November 26, 2005

Friends:

When I was in the third grade, I wrote a story called, "Pedro Runs Away." It was the story of a boy who runs away in New York City. He is mad at his mom and decides to leave home. As he wanders through the streets, he get slost. He feels so alone and afraid. He wants to return home but he cannot find his way. Finally, he finds a kind police man who takes him home. When he arrives, he sees his mama's face and he is worried that she is mad. But his mama throws her arms around him and tells him how much she misses him and loves him. She fixes him and the police man a big bowl of his favorite food - hot chili. Pedro realizes that home is the best place to be.

It wasn't a literary masterpiece but I remember being "in" the story. I was Pedro. Though I had never visited New York, I could see it, hear it, smell it, and taste it. I pictured Pedro's mom - plump with cinnamon skin, licorice hair, and a stained apron around her waste. Pedro had dimples when he smiled. The police man was tall and had the air of authority. After writing the story, I remember thinking, "This is what I want to do." I want to write. I want to live stories.

I was a voracious reader and read every day. My favorite books were ones that had a magical or supernatural element - Dorie the Witch, Raggedy Ann and Andy, folk and fairy tales. I fell in love with James and the Giant Peach and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. When I was in junior high, I was reading Judy Blume and Stephen King. Usually, as you grow older, your taste becomes more mature or sophisticated. In my case, I stayed in love with children's books. And I still am.

Since the third grade, I have always wanted to be an author, specifically, a children's author. When other girls were dreaming of their Oscar acceptance speech, I was dreaming of my Newberry Award acceptance speech. I pictured myself accepting the award and seeing my mom smiling with tears in her eyes. I have always wanted to make my mother proud.

It was so fitting that on Saturday, my mom handed me a package saying, "Here's the mail from Charlie's house." (Where we lived before we found permanent housing here in Houston.) I looked at the package and saw "Greenwood Press." My heart began galloping in my chest. "It's here!" I yelled.

My mom, stepdad and husband were getting ready to return to New Orleans and they were loading the car. "What?" asked Mom.

"My author's copies!" Mom looked at me blankly and watched as I ripped open the package, like a child on Christmas morning. I pulled out the books. Five identical copies. The cover is multi-colored, like cupcake sprinkles. It looks like there is a party on the front cover.

"What is that?" Mom asked.

"It's my book, Story Fest!" I answered, nearly breathless. I quickly leafed through the pages. Yes, the copyright was registered in my name. Yes, my name was on the front cover. Yes, it was a book published by a major publisher.

My husband and kids crowded around. "Wow! It looks so good. Sweetie, I'm so proud of you." My husband smiled and gave me a big hug.

Eliana, my five year old, said, "Mommy has a book all by herself!" I laughed.

Mom asked me to hand her a copy. She browsed through it and then asked, "Where can I buy one?"

I knew I wasn't going to make my mom buy my book but I told her, "Everywhere."

She looked at it and then looked at me, "I'm so proud of you, Dianne. I knew you could do it."

My mom was proud! My Filipina immigrant mother - who had left behind her entire family and country to build a life in the United States, and made her dreams come true - was proud -- of me. I felt like a little girl again, showing my mom my artwork and watching her hang it on the refrigerator.

Now, I can say that I am an author. I have two other book projects under contract. I am still waiting for a major publisher to say yes to my children's books but I know it will happen. I believe in my dreams. They are coming true.

Until next time...
Dianne