It’s been nearly a year since I wrote anything here. I guess a glance at the last couple of posts might give a hint as to why… time is the most precious resource around here; there simply never seems to be enough of it.
Every now and then something has come up, dramatic enough to warrant a thoughtful post, some reflection. But when you haven’t said anything for a while, it adds a layer of pressure to what you choose to say. A death, a political scurry, a personal epiphany… suddenly silence becomes the practice.
Well. I have a lovely loosely affiliated clump of friends I see rarely. They are the Ex Bookclub… we were in a book club together 7 or 8 years ago, that never really got coherent as a book club – we had divergent book tastes, and we’re all too outspoken to share opinions without irritating someone. Half of us fell pregnant at the same time, and turned into non-readers. Some of us buggered off to the other side of the planet in misguided relationship choices for a while. Others had career changes, personal dramas. As a book club we dissolved, and as a group of women with warm ties and mutual interest and shared compassion for each other’s journeys, we endured.
So, roughly once or twice a year we get it together to share a meal and an evening. Last night was the first time in a long time. This morning someone told me about a Zambian tradition, where women get together once a year for a full day to cook, eat and dance together, and share their tales of relationships, and support and advise one another. We didn’t dance, but perhaps next time we will.