Traveling with Pomegranates (42 page)

The desire to explore that passage of my life and translate it into story did not leave, but the passage was inextricable from our travels and the trips were Ann’s to write about, a reality that brought me a great deal of pleasure, even as I put aside the idea of writing about them myself.

Soon, I was at work on my next novel,
The Mermaid Chair
, a project that would consume me for the next few years, along with tending the publication of
The Secret Life of Bees
. The last thing I imagined was that
Bees
would find the success it did. In fact, I don’t think I realized the popularity of the novel until one evening when I was watching
Jeopardy!
and an answer that popped on the screen was: “Sue Monk Kidd’s debut novel is about these insects.” I blinked at the television, dumbfounded, before shouting “What is bees?” to the contestant, who luckily did not need my help.

I got a lot of on-the-job-training in learning to be the “contemplative writer” I first envisioned when Ann and I were at Mary’s House in Turkey. As I worked on
The Mermaid Chair
, I honed a rhythm in which I wandered back and forth between my desk and the marsh, as I’d done the summer I finished
Bees
. I’ve come to value simply being as much as working, and my hypertension stays away as long as I keep them balanced.

Mary continues to be the primary icon of devotion in my life, functioning as a vibrant symbol of the divine feminine, and also as my muse. In a painting over my desk, the Black Madonna sits enthroned, presiding over my work.

By the time I was fifty-eight, I’d become a grandmother three times over. Not only was there Ben, but our son, Bob, got married the year after Ann, and he and his wife, Kellie, brought Roxie and Max into the world. Grandmotherhood initiated me into a world of play, where all things became fresh, alive, and honest again through my grandchildren’s eyes. Mostly, it retaught me love.

When I finally began work on this book in May 2006, I felt like the stark and beautiful truths I’d met at the turn of my fifth decade had become a deep part of me. Over the next two and a half years, I sat at my desk, trying to render memory and perception into narrative, while several miles away, Ann did the same. We fell into a pattern of writing the first drafts of our individual chapters separately, then reading each other’s work, followed by long sessions during which we reminisced, probed, divulged, discovered, laughed, wept, challenged, commiserated, and encouraged.

So it went.

“We write to taste life twice,” Anaïs Nin wrote, “in the moment and in retrospection.” Living the experiences in this book and then writing them was a privilege and a gift, but what I savored most was doing so with Ann. Tasting life together. Twice.

We would like to express our gratitude to our agent, the amazing Jennifer Rudolph Walsh; to Molly Stern, our fabulous editor, along with all the exceptional people at Viking Penguin who supported this book and worked so hard on its behalf; to Trisha Sinnott and Terry Helwig, who traveled with us; to Leah Monk, extraordinary mother and grandmother in these pages; and to Scott, Ben, Sandy, and our family for the love and happiness they bring.