Monsoon Mansion: A Memoir(72)

My parents, who love me in their unique ways. I owe my creativity, resilience, resourcefulness, and passion to them both—the very traits that make me a writer. My mother was brilliant and my father was ambitious, and I channeled much of their personas through the completion of this book. And I hope that I channeled their energies into something peaceful and life-giving. Dona nobis pacem.

My dog, Skye, who sat on my lap every day as I typed away.

My darling girl, who had just begun to walk when I first went on this wild writing ride. She is now almost six years old, is all about rainbows, curious, imaginative, thoughtful, and kind—the little light I needed through the diving back into darker times. She is my sunshine.

And last on this list but always first in my spirit, heart, and mind: my husband. We were twenty when he first asked me what I wanted to do with my life, when I told him about the mansion, when he encouraged me to transfer out of fashion school and into a writing program. We are in our thirties now, more tired than when we first met, but wiser, stronger, braver, truer together. We laugh, we dance, we sing each other’s song. I write, and he proofreads. He is my coming home, my turning into my true self.