Over an hour later as we wound our way through the aquarium, our paths crossed again. Once more, we smiled. As our kids ran ahead, I complimented her earrings. She thanked me, paused momentarily, and asked, “Do you write Pink Dryer Lint?”It was the first time that I’ve been recognized in public by a reader. Neither of us had been on our home turf; she was from North Carolina and I was in Pittsburgh for the weekend to visit family. And somehow, in between the polar bear and the shark exhibits, we briefly had connected.
It’s hard to express how tickled -- how humbled -- I felt.I wish that I could meet each of you in person -- to see the faces that view Pink Dryer Lint from the other side of the screen. In person, I could admire your earrings, laugh alongside of you when your kid colors his face with chalk, and commiserate when you exit the grocery store and discover that the minivan in the parking lot with its side door wide open – the one that you assume belongs to a frazzled, absent-minded mother – is actually your van. (Been there, just this past week.)
Most of all, I'd thank you for reading.Since it’s unlikely that I’ll bump into the majority of you in person, let me thank you here, now. It’s an honor that you let me share parts of my life with you -- the glorious, the mundane, the heartbreaking, the humorous.
I thank God for the opportunity to write, and I never take it for granted that you read.