I didn’t know Karla well. I’d read and admired her poetry, but I met her in person only three times, casually, at book-related events. And then, several years ago, I put together my first collection of poems, made some sketches, and had the nerve to send her the dummy, hoping she’d take the time to look it over. She did — it came back weeks later, covered in Post-its. She not only critiqued and revised the poems but also suggested clever changes to the illustrations.
We stayed in touch via email as the book evolved and went into production. Meanwhile, her husband died and her health was getting worse. Last December I sent her a copy of the finished book. I was surprised when I didn’t hear back from her. I emailed again. Her reply was short and bittersweet. She loved the book, she told me, and then added that she was suffering from a grave illness.
I hope she understood what a difference she made with my book. No wonder it’s dedicated to Karla. For her insight and her generosity. I’m lucky I got to know her, even a little bit.
