In the Language of Miracles (28 page)

I owe my entire professional existence to Jane Hill, my mentor and friend, who gave me the confidence to call myself a writer and the means to make it all happen. She believed in me long before I believed in myself, and for that she has my eternal gratitude and love.

Sincere thanks and an abundance of hugs go to the incredibly generous Marie Manilla, who led me by the hand through the first drafts of this novel and who continues to guide me in everything that has to do with the writing life.

I still smile with joy whenever I remember that Lynn Nesbit is my agent, a fact that proves I am one of the luckiest people alive and that certainly tips the scale toward the probability of miracles actually happening.

Ann Beattie, the instigator of miracles, has my sincere thanks for her unmatched kindness.

I am forever indebted to Allison Lorentzen, my editor, for believing in this novel and for her guidance and ardent support.

Many thanks go to John Van Kirk both for his writing advice and for pointing out the fascinating ending of
The Arabian Nights.

Thank you, Zohreh T. Sullivan, for encouragement when I needed it most.

My friends and former professors: Michael Householder, Whitney Douglas, and Kelli Prejean, and, of course, my amazing fellow teaching assistants for those two crazy years: Anna Rollins, Cat Staley, David
Robinson, John Chirico, and Sarah Krause—thank you all for making me feel like I belong.

I am humbled by the support of the following incredibly gifted poets and writers: Bob Hill, Mary Moore, Carrie Oeding, Rachael Peckham, Eric Smith, and Art Stringer.

Thank you, Crystal Canterbury, for always being there for me and my kids and for having a pure, pure heart.

My Egyptian friends, too many to list: German school alumni, architects, musicians—thank you all for the cheering that spans the globe and for the gift of lasting friendship.

Two of my childhood English teachers hold a special place in my heart: Hoda Hamdy for visiting me when I was sick and explaining the week's lessons to me while I lay on the sofa in my parents' living room, and Amal El-Nayal for years of guidance and inspiration.

 • • • 

Finally, my love and gratitude go to:

My family in the United States: my husband for decades of love, for his unflinching support, and for the gift of freedom; my kids for being who they are.

And my family in Egypt: my father for his unconditional love and constant encouragement, my sister for her prayers, and my mother—for placing that first book in my hands, for being the first to take my writing seriously, and for a lifetime of giving.
Habibti
Mama: I miss you with every single
breath.

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