Terror in London, fear everywhere else.
Makes my little problems even punier. Makes me feel like a jerk.
Met with my writer’s group for the last time (officially) today. It’s not like I won’t see them ever again for the rest of my life. I know that. But I’ve been meeting with them for more than a decade and that is over because I am moving in 23 days, and the distance will be too far. I wrote about my group a couple months ago, if you’re interested.
We cried during group and shed a couple tears at lunch. Another member of our group is moving this month, too, and a third is moving homes, though she’ll still be able to attend meetings. The sense of change, of forever good-bye and overwhelming sadness darkened our lunch table. I am trying to hold on to the positive, to be grateful for the incredible friendships this group has offered me, the wisdom I’ve learned from all these women. It is hard to imagine what my life would be like without them.
I need to pack something. I’m off to New York City tomorrow.