Receiving the first copies of a book you have written is the oddest feeling… The object before you has lived in your mind for years, and you have spent many days working to place what is inside your mind outside your mind so others can see it.

The book is like a black box at first. What’s inside it? Did I write it? It seems like so long ago. And it was so long ago! Because the wheels of publishing turn slowly. But the grind — the writing, the promoting, the waiting — feels exceedingly fine (eventually).

Then it’s like meeting an old friend you haven’t seen in a long time. At first, you’re not quite sure it’s him — he’s changed a bit and so have you. But then you look again and yes, it’s him! I remember now. I wrote this. How wonderful to see you again!

Please come in. Make yourself at home. Stay awhile.

Have you met my daughter, Hendrikje? I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.