I didn’t realize how much mental energy I had been devoting to yesterday’s meeting with the titans of the children’s book publishing world until the meeting was over and, given the chance to let down my guard, fell into a profound slumber while Robbi drove us home from New York. For context, my usual requirements for successfully falling asleep include complete silence, complete darkness, and seven pillows arrayed artfully around my body.

The trip into the city was relatively smooth, if costly. The privilege of driving through the Lincoln Tunnel sets you back $12 these days.

The perpetual overplanner, I left 90 extra minutes for mishap and getting lost. We experienced neither mishap nor traffic. Consequently, we arrived with 90 minutes to spare.

And so we stopped at a cafe to get a bite to eat and settle our nerves. I should revise this to say that Robbi got a bite to eat (preceded by a cup of mix-your-own hot chocolate). I couldn’t bring myself to take a bite.

It was my nerves that needed settling. A pot of mint tea helped.

My smile belies an ocean of anxiety. I respond to big moments by getting nervous. Robbi responds by dropping her blood pressure to levels resembling coma. We meet somewhere in the middle and usually—somehow, improbably—end up pulling it off, whatever it is.

As the appointed hour approached, we walked to the building where we were going to meet. It was much taller than our buildings in Chestertown.

It had a stunning vaulted atrium that made us feel small and humble.

The ceiling was especially shiny.

Eventually, the meeting started. I honestly cannot remember most of it. Our work was well received, our ideas thoughtfully considered. As I recall, there was a lot of laughter (with us, not at us). The titans turned out to be very nice and down-to-earth people, full of astute observations and helpful insights. As for how it went, all I can say for sure is that we had a lot of fun, we said what we wanted to say, and I only spilled one glass of water across the table.

On the way home, we got some ribs to celebrate. There may be no better affirmation of a day well spent than pit-roasted meat smothered in barbeque sauce.

Kato, who had nothing to do with the day’s success, nevertheless felt compelled to dive right in.

Time will tell what, if anything, happens next. But it was a real honor to have a chance to spend an hour in that room.