On The Road

So my book, Perfectly Imperfect, is out in paperback. Release the confetti. I’m on the road, doing my author thing. I’ve patched together a series of speaking gigs and I packed my bag, my cooler of food, my metal water bottles and headed out on the open road. The point is to sell books. If I sell enough books then maybe someone will want me to write another one. People think travel is glamorous. And here I am in a hotel room outside of Baltimore, Maryland. There has been some kind of a fire in the area’s water station. For seven miles around, there is no water. No water to drink, to shower, to cook and to air condition the room. It hit 90 degrees here today. I smell. I’m sticky. And I’m hungry but I’m too tired to move. People think travel is glamorous. Until they do it enough. Right now I miss my kids horribly. I miss my bed. I’m sick of what’s on the hotel TV; sick of Kate Gosselin and her whining about missing her kids while she works. Does she think she is the only mother who has ever had to work for a living? Here come the tears again on the ET interview. Spare me. But tomorrow I will be a new woman, that is if there is water available for a shower. In between the travel and the delayed flights and the fatigue, lies the good part. It’s the tasty meat filling. What energizes me is talking to people. It’s relating a story or an experience. I like feeling alive when I talk and share what I know. Something I have learned might just help someone else, or ease their own journey. Sometimes there is a moment when I wonder if I will be able to tell it one more time and then I look out at the crowd, at the faces of the people seated there, and it all flows out of me. Tomorrow I’ll be home. I’ll make a birthday dinner for my twins--- steak, peas and mashed potatoes. I’ll walk the dogs and hug my husband. Maybe more, if he is lucky. I’ll lay my head on my own pillow and let out a deep breath. Sure—I’ll be back on the road next week. And that brief time back in the bosom of my family will recharge my batteries. And I’ll go out and do it again. So I hope I get to see you on the road. And I promise I will have showered.

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