Two days after our CBC Radio interview aired, I received an email from a woman named Christine. She explained that her mother, Marjorie, had heard the interview and was curious about where to get the book. Christine wanted to surprise her with it for her upcoming 86th birthday.

When asked whether she wanted the book as a complimentary gift for CBC listeners or preferred to buy it, Christine didn’t hesitate; she told me that she wanted to buy it. 

There was something so tender in that wish. At 86, Marjorie was still curious and still reaching for new stories, especially stories written mostly by immigrants. I felt moved and decided this was more than just a book order. I offered to meet Christine in person rather than mail it. I also brought a box of chocolates for Marjorie.

Christine and I met the next day in a rainy parking lot, an ordinary place, yet the moment felt special.

A middle-aged woman wearing an Edmonton Oilers jersey walked toward me at our meeting spot, a big smile on her face. “Christine!” I greeted her excitedly. She was energetic, cheerful, and warm. I felt an instant connection to her. 

I handed her the book and chocolates, wishing her mother a happy birthday. Christine thanked me and then suddenly said, “Could you sign for my mom?” I felt so honored. It became obvious that she valued the book and our work. With gratitude, I signed it on a post under a roof to avoid the rain.

The book was now delivered, and I never expected to hear more.

But three weeks later, I received this message with the subject “Feedback from a delighted reader”:

“Hello Cathy,

My mother, Marjorie, finished your book. She enjoyed it very much. She wanted me to tell you all it was very well done! She said, ‘It felt like I was there in the story.’ She was inspired and touched by the stories of struggle and resilience.

Please pass this on to your writing club members.

Thank you, again!

Christine Enfield”

Christine also added a note:

“Thank you for the birthday chocolates you sent my mum. She was so pleased. The story of our encounter made the book even more special.”

After 12 months and endless hours we spent planning, preparing, training, writing, editing, sharing, and reflecting on our journeys, it was deeply moving to know that our work had reached someone like Marjorie and resonated so strongly.

Stories connect us across cultures, across generations, across parking lots, inboxes, and birthdays.

Marjorie’s joy reminds us that storytelling is not just about preserving the past. It’s about creating new moments of connection, memory, and meaning in the present.

And sometimes, all it takes is a daughter’s email, a thoughtful birthday gift, and an encounter in a rainy parking lot to remind us why we write.