My best friend of over 25 years recently moved away. Far away. We’ve had a year to get used to the idea or “mourn” as we jokingly said, but as the moving date got closer it didn’t get easier. Over the years, Linda and I drank gallons of coffee, jogged hundreds of miles, cried till there were no tears left, and laughed till we made fools of ourselves. Although I know I can hop on a plane and visit, it will never be the same. I never had a friend like Linda before, and I know I never will, and yes, I know all about how the only thing that’s changed is where she lives. Still, one year is not enough time to prepare for something as difficult as this.

At the recent Northern Ohio SCBWI publication party, I shared a story that to me typifies what writing for children is all about. At the risk of being redundant (but as a way to take advantage of the fact that I don’t have to write another article right now!), here’s my story.

In the village of Chalatenango, El Salvador, Andrea lives with the local village priest. Fr. Rafael came into her life when she was near death as a toddler and he was asked to give her a final blessing before she died. He insisted on taking her to the local hospital where she spent a month fighting for her life. Besides being raised on coffee instead of milk, Andrea was being abused by her father, so instead of returning home, her mother asked Father Rafael to take her.