The Year of Yes

With the radio on.

I did not dare to look behind me. Because I knew I would see the people in the control room. And that might have made my heart beat harder and faster than it already was. I thought for sure they could hear it over the giant green mic that hung above me. I thought they would have to come in and tell me to calm down.

But they didn’t. I listened to the segment break through the headphones, watched the clock in the studio tick away. How much longer? I was alone; the host was in LA with my fellow guest. I had a piece to read, and I spread the pages out in front of me carefully, hoping that nerves wouldn’t gum up my mouth, make my eyes skip over the notes I wrote in the margins.

Then I heard the intro music began. My segment was next. I heard the host, I heard the other guest, I heard my name. And like I had practiced in my head, like I have heard guests do on public radio for years and years and years, I very calmly said:

“Thank you. It’s great to be here.”

LISTEN (You can’t hear my heart pounding out of my chest. THANK GOD.)