Making Progress

Yesterday I worked for eleven hours coloring the fanzine. I only stopped to warm up food, eat, use the bathroom, and in the afternoon, to take a shower.

My husband took care of the dog and helped in any way he could so I could keep going. So I could have it ready before April arrives.

April arrives tomorrow.

I now have three subscribers who joined from my Instagram stories. My heart warms every time I think about that.

Seeing the images filled with color yesterday felt bittersweet. It’s taking form, and the more it does, the more I wish I could show it to my mother.

She would love it.

While I was coloring, I listened to The Women by Kristin Hannah, a beautiful audiobook my mother-in-law recommended. It follows a nurse in Vietnam and what comes after. A story of strength, emotion, and grief.

I cried a few times.

There were moments when it felt like we were all grieving together, the characters, the story, and me. While, at the same time, a fanzine was quietly taking shape in my hands.

Around 9pm, I stopped.

I finished four of the six full pages that will later be folded into a twelve-page booklet. My goal is to complete the remaining two tomorrow, make the copies, and ship everything before the end of the week.

This morning, while my husband and I were having coffee, I was scrolling on my phone when something caught my eye:

Miami Zine Fair.

I read it again.

Miami Zine Fair.

I couldn’t believe it.

It turns out there is a Miami Zine Fair — this Saturday.

A few weeks ago, I attended a Poetry Club, and the host is involved in the fair. That’s how it appeared on my feed. By chance, or something like it.

And then something even better: one of the exhibitors, Pana Mia Club, is offering to display printed zines at their stand.

I sent them a message asking if I could send mine, or bring some in person.

I haven’t heard back yet. But I already made plans with my friend Corinne to go.

Later, at work, I started researching other zine fairs across the country. There are so many. And — somehow — there’s even a zine store here in Miami! Very close to my house.

I couldn’t help but feel that all of this is a kind of signal from my mom. A small, quiet confirmation.

As if she were saying:

Yes. I love it. I’m here for it.