I write four hundred words of the new novel—a seashore novel—and decide that I've earned a walk, down to the Devon Horse Show, where anticipation surrounding this evening's Grand Prix runs high.
Shortly after I return, a gift arrives—an absolutely gorgeous hardback history of Stone Harbor, which was "my" seashore during my growing up years and which has in recent times been returned to me by my brother, his wife, and his children. I wrote of my love for this place in one of my first stories for the Philadelphia Inquirer, and not long afterward, Amy Welsh, on behalf of the Stone Harbor Property Owners Association, wrote to ask if she might include the essay in the Stone Harbor centennial story.
Of course I said yes.
But I did not foresee just how lovely this book would be—the photos, the stories, the personal reminisces, the high-quality design and production. It is an honor to have my words included and an inspiration as I turn the corner on the halfway mark of this novel that still sits here, waiting for me.
Thank you, Stone Harbor, for being the shore I always loved best. And thank you, Amy, for ending your glorious book with my words.
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