Page 38 of Sunny Skies Ahead
“How long was he active duty?”
“He was a year older than Connor, Abbie, and I, so maybe six years? I don’t know how he split his enlistment, what portion of time he spent active versus the reserves. And obviously I don’t talk to him now, so. . .”
Imogen trailed off, and I knew we were approaching the natural end of this conversation. There were more questions I wanted to ask, but this morning had already taken a strangeturn, between me waking up sick and trauma dumping on an unsuspecting Imogen.
“Oh my God!” Imogen exclaimed, sitting up straighter.
“What? What?” I said, my head whipping towards hers.
“We’ve advanced to the next round for the Warrior’s Grant,” Imogen said excitedly. “They’ve narrowed down the applications to a hundred and the committee is reviewing them. The next step would be a video interview with the grant proposal committee to learn more about Winding Road’s mission.”
The mention of the Warrior’s Grant cut through the sickly haze clouding my mind.
“The Warrior’s Grant is the big one,” I said, trying to wrap my mind around it. “It’s the one I applied to on a whim. I didn’t think we’d get it, but then Connor told me I should just apply anyway to see what happens. I barely got the application in before deadline.”
“That’s the one,” Imogen said, beaming at me. “The email says we’ll hear something about scheduling the interview in the next week, if we’ve been selected to continue on.Kam, this is incredible.”
Imogen excitedly scrolled through the lengthy email. My head was spinning with a new sense of dread.
The Warrior’s Grant was the one grant I hadn’t expected to hear back from. I’d already received dozens of rejections from various smaller grants, and I’d gone back and forth on whether or not to even apply for the Warrior’s Grant, because that’s how much of a long-shot it was.
Now, they wanted to know more about Winding Road. They wanted to know more about the work we did with veterans and first responders.
The Warrior’s Grant could sustain Winding Road for the next five years, longer if the barn venue took off in the way I hoped. This grant would allow us to expand and do things like build on-site housing for cohorts, which would further reduce the overall financial burden for the non-profit site.
“I might throw up.”
Imogen looked at me incredulously. “Kam, this is a good thing.”
It’s only a good thing if I don’t screw it up, is what I wanted to say, but I was too scared to open my mouth for fear that my sickness and anxiety combination would lead me to projectile vomit all over the coffee table.
“You’ll have plenty of time to recover.”
“Can I pay you to do the interview for me?” I whispered. Imogen shook her head.
“The email specifies that they’ll want to talk to the executive director directly. It makes sense, because you have the most intimate knowledge about how everything works.”
I closed my eyes against the rising tide of emotion.
This was a good thing. This was a bigger chance than I’d ever had. We hadn’t technically moved on to the interview round, but I couldn’t stop myself from imagining that we did. The festival last year had put us on the map, but nothing compared to having the support of a massive organization. The connections alone would be worth their weight in gold for a small, start-up nonprofit like Winding Road.
Selfishly, the possibility of a team supporting us also excited me. That was the other part of the Warrior’s Grant that made it so appealing: they didn’t just cut you a check and send you on your way. They offered consulting on proper money management for nonprofits, offered guidance on planning for the long-term success of the nonprofit, and provided referrals and recommendations to people to partner with for expansion.
So far, everything that had gone into Winding Road had been done because of my or Connor’s research. I didn’t have any formal education in the nonprofit sector. Before establishing Winding Road, I’d never even been part of a nonprofit. Everything I knew about running a nonprofit came from talking to people more knowledgeable than I, and doing an insane amount of Googling and reading.
“Hey, look at me.”
I looked back at Imogen, and she reached for my hand, squeezing it gently.
“We’ve got this. We’ll make sure you have everything you need to smash the interview, and if the journey ends here, we’ll keep applying. You’re not alone.”
You’re not alone. How many times had I repeated those same words to various people over the last few years? And how often did I have those words reflected back to me by Connor and Lucas?
Yet somehow, the words felt different coming from Imogen. They felt grounding. Encouraging. Hopeful.
“Thanks, Im.”
She pulled her hand back, and I snagged her wrist gently. She blew out a quick breath, lips parting around a gentle gasp.
