It happened today.

A little brown box sat on my doorstep as I rushed home from work. I knew I should go grab the kiddos from daycare, but the box called to me.

Out of the car, I sped up the doorway and looked at the box. When I saw the simple word “Lulu” my heart started pounding. You know those butterflies everyone talks about–those ones that sit in your gut and flutter away when you’re nervous. They lie. They don’t just sit in your gut, they travel everywhere.  Up and down your arms, around your heart, through your head. I picked it up and went inside.

Then I stalled. I grabbed some frozen burritos out of the freezer, threw them on a plate and stuck them in the microwave. I filled a large glass with water and a sprinkle of ice. Shook the glass in small circles to speed the cooling process. And glanced at the box.

What if it didn’t print right? What if the cover was too dark? What if… What if… What if…

So I did what any kid would do on Christmas day — I ripped the box open and stared at the cover. Maybe it’s a little dark? Nah - it helps the mood. For several breaths, I couldn’t open it. If the words were little symbols instead of actual text, it would be heartbreaking and ruin the moment. When I did, though, I found that everything looked like it should. Actually, it looked better than I had hoped and dreamed. My book was a reality. All of the years and hours finally became my newborn, and I was the proud papa holding it for the first time.

I hope every book is like this.