Stories are light, and in a world as dark as this we need all the light we can get.
Twelve years ago, a young girl sat in the front row of a small circle of students. Her hair stood straight out on either side of head like a lamp shade, and her eyes were impossibly large - especially right then. She sat criss-cross-apple-sauce, pockets on the floor while her teacher read aloud the most beautiful, the most eccentric, the most enchanting story the girl had ever heard. The book was almost over, and she was aching inside to know - would the unlikely Hero with exceptionally large ears, save the Princess?
The book was The Tale of Despereaux. The lampshade with big eyes was me.
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Kate DiCamillo's novels have been a source of wonder for me ever since that day, and over the years I have read and reread the precious stories of unlikely heroes and unexpected lessons. But her words have never been so alive for me as they were in the summer of 2015 when I tucked The Tale of Despereaux into my hiking bag, boarded a plane, and left to teach English in Tanzania for a month.
The beauty of it all came full circle that summer, as I read the thrilling adventure of Roscurro, Miggery Sow, the Princess Pea, and - of course - Despereaux aloud to twenty third graders. Painted on those children's faces were the same expressions of concern, joy, shock, and excitement that I imagine lit my own wide eyes so many years ago. Bringing the characters to life through my voice brought them to life again in my heart. As we discussed the difficult lessons of forgiveness, identity, loss, and love - as we explored new words and concepts - I learned again, just how beautiful books are. Especially this one. Especially this author.
It was Kate DiCamillo - her stories and quirk - that sparked in eight-year-old me, a passion for writing. Though I may not have understood it at the time, her tales would shape my own path in life. Look at me now, even, you're reading my own words! And it is a beautiful thought to me that somewhere, someone I don't know is learning a piece of who I am - because of this.
You can imagine my excitement, then, when I learned last week that Kate would be only an hour away from my campus. I called Dad in a frenzy, asked him to overnight me my copy of Despereaux, packed up my car, and peeled out. I counted myself lucky that I might have the chance to see her and have her hurriedly sign my book before I was pushed forward through the line by a hoard of mothers with their tiny humans.
But oh, the surprise I was in for! Arriving early to an event for children has its perks, and as I looked across the nearly empty room, I realized that only three people stood between myself and my favorite author. Who cared if I was the only person over three feet tall standing in line.
As she signed my book, I told her all about my time in Tanzania. About my adventures with Despereaux. About the bonds that have formed in my heart because of that book - because of her words. My heart floated a little as she listened to the story. After a quick photo and a sweet comment, I let her focus on the kids behind me. Promptly excusing myself to a side room before I burst into tears in front of everyone.
It was there that I opened the cover of my book and read her words: "To Bekah, thank you for taking this story into the world. -Kate."
The greatest lesson I learned from Despereaux, is that stories are light. And in such a dark world, we need all the light we can get. It is for just this reason that I am following suit and pursuing a career in writing - because writing helps me make sense of this world, and maybe if I am very lucky, if I am very persistent, if I am audacious and fearless...
...Maybe my stories will someday shed light on someone's life the way Kate Dicamillo's have in mine.
