Breathing (27 page)

But he squeezes my leg and says, “You gonn’ be just fine, Savannah.”

So I hold my tongue.

Before I know it, we’re pulling up to the train station and my heart starts in to beating like a hamster on a running wheel. Jackson gets my luggage out of the back and sets it on the curb. I’m still sitting up in the front, unmoving. He comes over and opens my door and offers me a hand down. I take a couple of deep breaths, throw my backpack over my shoulder, and join him. We hug real tight and kiss each other sort of quick what with all them people around.

Jackson says, “I got sump’n I want to say to you.”

You can bet I’m all ears now.

He takes a folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket and grins sort of sheepishly. “I was afraid I’d get nervous and forget it.”

Suddenly I’m grinning ear to ear just at the thought that he done took the time to think about what he wanted to say to me before I left, and then I’m wishing I’d done something for him, too.

I grab at the heart pendant hung around my neck, making sure it’s still there.

He looks at his paper, then at me. “Savannah . . .” He hesitates, clearing his throat, looking embarrassed. “I love you ’cause you’re smart and funny and different, ’cause you seem full of magic. Somehow, you got the whole world in your pocket, make the stars seem within reach.” He smiles nervously and crumples the paper in his hand. “You go on after your dream, now. I’ll be waiting for you right here when you get back. I know you gonn’ have a real great time.” He hangs his head for a moment, like he’s too shy to look at me all the sudden.

Sheesh! Can you imagine a guy sounding all poetic, pouring his heart out like that? I am at a loss for words. I just cry and kiss him and bury my head in his shoulder. My eyes catch sight of his shoes and Lordy be . . . he’s wearing a brand-new pair of flip-flops! I’ve been so anxious all morning, I hadn’t even noticed.

They make an announcement for my train, and I know it’s time to go. Painful as it is to be the one walking away, I pick up my luggage, hoist my backpack, and step forward. Once I get settled in my seat, I can see him out the window. I wave, and he smiles at me. I believe he might have even just wiped a tear! This here is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and you know what, my breathing ain’t too bad, a little clunky is all.

As the train lurches into motion and begins to pull out of the station, my heart jumps right on up in my throat as I think back on all the ways my life has transformed in one single solitary summer and all the changes going to be waiting for me when I get back.

Then up out of nowhere comes one of my too-true feelings. Even though everything is going all right, the sense I get is that what’s on the way is even better. I imagine me and Jackson strolling down the beach together when I get home. Only the me in my mind has changed somehow—in a way only I can discern. It’s in the way I hold myself, in the tilt of my head, in the easy swell of my lungs, ’cause what’s different is who I am inside. That new me there has a knowing this me here doesn’t quite have a grasp on yet, a knowing that comes from scaling my own mountain, a knowing that comes from breathing—all on my own.

M
y dream of becoming a published author took many years to realize. There were times along the way when I lost hope and was ready to give up. Luckily, I have always had people in my life who believed in me and kept me going.

 

 

My thank you’s begin and end with my family: to my husband, Oded, who dreamed my dreams with me, helped me find my way out when my chosen path was no longer working, pushed me on when I didn’t know if I could continue, served as my medical consultant, and read so many drafts of books with not a single car chase or battle scene; to my daughter, Maya, for reading all my manuscripts, offering helpful guidance, and for her profoundly loving and joyful spirit; to my son, Jonah, for being patient and understanding when I took time to write, for his deeply caring nature, and for always making me smile; to them all for their unwavering belief.

 

 

To my parents, Arna Brandel and Bob Lefkowitz, thank you for giving me permission and freedom to believe in my dreams and for providing me with loving support every step of the way. And to my siblings, David, Noah, Mara, and Josh for their encouragement and for being a constant loving presence in my life. Thank you to Jeanne Tsai for believing in me, even when I couldn’t believe in myself, and for always being there. To Shawn Register, for reading an early draft, serving as my Southern consultant, and keeping me focused on the positive.

 

 

Thank you also to my writing group, facilitated by the ever inspiring Susanne West and “the regulars”—Fred Anlyan and Carrie Vanderwagen. And to the other writing teachers who helped me find my voice—Janell Moon, Lillian Cunningham, and Thea Sullivan. And to my first writing group at Kai One Place, Kailua, Oahu, for their faith in me. I would also like to thank Tom Barron for believing in me and reminding me to never give up. And John Coie, my undergraduate mentor, who upon hearing of my decision to leave the PhD program in psychology, said to me, “Take the time to find your place in this world and feel good about it.” That is my wish for every one of you reading this.

 

 

And then, of course, there are the people who made my dream a reality: My deep gratitude goes to my agent, Leigh Feldman, for giving wings to my dream and seeing Savannah’s potential. To Joy Peskin, the most amazing editor, for helping me to make this story whole and complete and for being so available, responsive, and patient throughout this process. And thank you to Regina Hayes and everyone else at Viking Children’s Books for all their work and support. My infinite gratitude to you all.

Of course, I can’t end this without a thank you to Savannah Georgina Brown for jumping into my head and telling me her story.

 

 

And, as I said, in the end as in the beginning is always my family. I love you, my special little one; sister of my heart; and boy of my dreams.