The Butterfly Garden by Dot Hutchison

Sometimes I think this part is harder than writing the whole rest of the book.

But there are so many people to whom I am deeply indebted for the existence of this book. To Mom and Deb, for answering disturbing and bizarre medical questions for research, and thus saving me from getting put on Lists for asking Google terrifying things. To Dad and my brothers, for continuing to support this strange, difficult dream of mine. To Sandy, for not giving up on the quiet, creepy little monster that didn’t seem to have a home. To Isabel and Chelsea, for being early readers and having a reaction other than “What the hell is wrong with you?” To Tessa, for having the patience and talent to talk me off the ledges I keep finding myself on. To Alison and JoVon, for taking a chance on it, and Caitlin, for asking so many fantastic questions and herding me—however hysterical I got—into finding ways to better this book.

To the friends who’ve forgiven me for being profoundly antisocial while working on this, and the coworkers who are probably sick of hearing me talk about it, and the managers who are so excited to get it in.

To you, for sticking with me this long.