Word Raccoon barged into my evening last night, paws full, tail swishing like she was trying to send coded messages to every poet who ever doubted themselves.

“Sit down,” she said, which was unnecessary because I was already sitting. She likes drama. She likes to pretend she is lowering sunglasses that are not actually there.

She opened my laptop and waited.

She pointed to this sentence:

Your poem “Mutual Mass” has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize by The Dewdrop.

WR crossed her arms and nodded very solemnly for one full second before ruining it with a little dance that might have involved jazz hands. She lives for these moments.

I read the email again and WR sighed like finally. So I did what she asked.

“Say thank you,” she ordered. “And do not get weird about it.”

So thank you to Nicholas Trandahl and the editorial team at The Dewdrop for this honor. Thank you for reading the poem with such thoughtful attention. I am grateful to you.

Actually, I am stunned and shocked and pleased and every pleasant thing in between.

WR has now insisted I print the email and keep it in a sacred place, which apparently means the top drawer of the secretary desk under a packet of seasonal earrings.

I am simply sitting here, grateful and a little overwhelmed in the best way, letting Word Raccoon do the celebrating for both of us. Neither of us can toast with anything stronger than tea at the moment since medication rules the day, and we are perfectly fine with that.

Today we are both happy that a poem we needed and wanted to write also found its way to readers we never imagined would meet it. We hope you like it too, Dear Reader.

And just as we were settling into that surreal moment, another bit of news arrived. My poem “Beatitude of the Quietly Scorned” has been accepted by the Tulane Review for its Fall 2025 issue. Many thanks to TTR!

Word Raccoon’s brain is afire and I’m right with her. I think we have to go lie down now…