Audrey Indigo the Writer

Nine Years, Five Weeks, Three Days, 37 Words Per Minute

     I clink the glass with my mom.

     "To you never leaving my side, no matter what," I say.

     "To me never leaving you," She repeats.

     I sip my actual drink of champagne. I turned 21 eight months ago, so I thought for our annual toast I would order alcohol just because I can. Coke is better, though.

     Looking at the auburn sky through the glass wall behind my mom, I think of how much she means to me. If it weren't for her, I would still have ten words per minute as my average. That lecture was the most important thing she's ever told me. If she hadn't said that, I probably would have given up. I wouldn't have ever written a book, got a degree in creative writing, or even written in general.

     Now I'm a professional writer and I have a bestseller. She was the key to my success, and she never left my side through all of it. I've never been more grateful for anyone. She made me feel like I could do it, which I could. She made me feel normal.

     I've overcome a lot. There were a lot of challenges, but I beat them before they could beat me.

     In the end, I really am Audrey Indigo the Writer.