Yesterday was certainly a transforming moment in my life as a writer. A smattering of nerves lulled me to sleep the night before. Since this is my first writer’s reception and quite frankly I did not know what to expect. Either the expeditions I put upon myself or the exceptions from more accomplished writers in the book.

My family and I traveled to Boyertown PA which is over an hour away from our home. A beautiful city in the heart of Berks county Pennsylvania. With plenty of history, shopping, art and many unique restaurants. Of course since I drive with an inherited lead foot, we were one hour early for the event. Scanning through Route 100 looking for a place to eat that would appeal to all of us. We came across the Americana Diner in Bechtelsville. I love a diner it is the home cooked, hometown atmosphere that reminds me of the simpler times. The no rush era of my childhood. You walk in the Americana and you are instantly transported through time of shiny steel, and 1950’s blue. While the music of Elvis, Chubby Checker, Jerry Lee Lewis and all of the greats play in the background. Large menu selections of Greek and American faire. My son the culinary aficionado always tries the latest and greatest food creations. Bob ordered the Diablo Burger platter and man did that live up to it’s name. Catch this; one quarter pound hamburger patty sandwiched in between two gooy toasted cheese sandwiches, with a fried egg, bacon. Just throw in lettuce, tomato and red onions for good measure. Can you say more than a trip to the emergency on a plate. Of course this soon to be high school graduate ate the entire thing.

The nerves really did not kick in until we parked across the street from the venue. Studio B is a small venue with a very welcoming heart and the director Jane Stahl was very surprised that I traveled from Scranton. I told her, “ I would not have missed this for the world .” So many art and artists all in one room. I enjoyed the diverse points of view that hung on the walls. From words on canvas to impressionism style art. Wooden movable art and photography that were all once in the artist’s mind. Now on display for everyone to look over and ponder.

We were all prompted to purchase the book before the general public had their chance. Handing over the money, it felt like an exchange to another journey in my life. I just went somewhere that my mind could not fathom. My husband saw this in me and took the book to find the page were my poetry was listed. There it was on page 3, my thoughts, my words. Right here in print to be distributed in public. All though I done free lance writing for local news papers ,this was totally different.

The reception started in a smaller back room with formal introductions of the editors of the book and the illustrator. Jane turned over the forum to the authors. “Now we will have each one of our contributors introduce themselves and read their poetry.” I could feel the back of my hairs stand on end and my face becoming beat red. Me, read my work! I felt like I was back in 6th grade trying to muster up the courage to go before my classmates and read a history report. In my head I am stating, ‘What is wrong with you Mary Anne, you have read the gospel as a lector for over 25 years, this should not any different.” But it was, this was the vulnerable side of myself. As I grappled with myself, I was able to truly listen to my fellow poets, speaking of love, loss, intuitiveness, finding their voice, finding themselves as unique human beings, and speaking their truth. Finally I took the courage to speak, slightly stumbling but the words my words fell from my lips as a looked up several times towards my fellow writers. I heard my father speak words of encouragement that ran through my brain. “Mary Anne you did it, you absolutely did it.” For the poem is about my wedding day and missing my dad.

My nerves melted away as soon I was able to communicate with my fellow poets and the one take away we all had. That no matter what our back grounds were, we all connection in that small room. We all tried our best to explain it but non the less it is our magical connection and deepest relationship with words.