So I'm in this writing group...
A little over 3 years ago I attended a grief writing retreat in Taos. It was a week-long event with 25-ish attendees. The retreat was everything I wanted it to be and exactly what I needed at that point in my life. What I didn't expect though, was to leave with friendships that would last a lifetime. You know what it's like when you meet someone and you just know you're going to be friends? That's how this was. A small group of us formed a writing group. We come together over zoom every 3 weeks to continue the work that we began together in Taos the summer of 2017. We had a writing session yesterday.
One of the prompts from yesterday's session was something like - imagine what you will be doing this time next year - and write it. The way the writing goes is that I pick up a pen and I begin writing without thinking and don't stop writing for 20 minutes. At the end of the 20 minutes we read aloud to the rest of the group. As I was writing this - I was not overly emotional, in fact, I was smiling as I was writing just thinking about it! But when I read it aloud to the group I started crying almost to the point that I could not finish it. Writing is powerful. But reading it aloud is a power all on its own. There's something about it that makes me feel completely vulnerable. I'm not sure why I became so emotional except that as I read it I realized that it's not about any over-the-top activities like trips around the world or climbing any great mountains or miles and miles long hikes...it's just about the regular stuff that we've lost. It's about human connection. Anyway, here it is. What will you be doing this time next year? Write it!
I'm picturing any Sunday in January, 2022. The morning will start without news. Perhaps the television doesn't even come on at all today. I don't immediately pick up my phone to see if there has been any horrific event in our country or anywhere in the world. I don't look at a Covid death toll and I don't check hospital bed capacity in my "Covid Region". Since Covid has been controlled, I have had time to make friends in this place that I moved in the year before Covid began. It's Sunday so my new friend and I might hit the farmers market. But on 2nd thought, we're just going to meet at a coffee shop.
It's 10:30am and I'm sitting in the coffee shop. At a table. With people seated at tables around me. I have coffee in a ceramic mug that was handed to me by the person behind the counter. My imaginary friend is a few minutes late, but I don't mind because there is music from some random folky Pandora playlist being piped thru... so I can have my coffee and enjoy the music. Inside. At a table. With people around me. The music is nice but it's not so loud that I can't hear conversations around me. I'm eavesdropping. The conversations that I hear are not about some bullshit tweet from the mango colored Mussolini occupying the White House. The Mango dictator has been gone almost a year now. Instead, the conversations I hear are about a play that one person has just seen at Cal Poly Performing Arts. At another table a person is talking about their family's trip to Disneyland over the New Year holiday.
My imaginary new friend eventually shows up and we have a long conversation that doesn't involve death or sickness or vaccines or insurrection at The Capitol. She tells me about her new gym membership and I tell her about the day I spent in Santa Cruz with Connor's friends. We talk about the new book club we just joined and the book we are reading. We talk about how much fun it is to be in a room together with our book club rather than zooming. I tell her about a new trail that Scott and I are hiking tomorrow. It's rated difficult and we are hiking it now because we can - Nick is back in his day program.
After about an hour we part ways, hugging. We will see each other again mid-week. In person. In a gym or in a wine bar or any place. It doesn't matter where, it just matters that it will be in person. I head home and take a shower. I do that every day now. Most days I even put on make up and get out of my running clothes. I wear my hair down because I can get my hair cut regularly now.
Scott and Nick get home. They've been at the grocery store. In person, with a shopping basket and a list. They come home with everything on the list. Everything. It's not like it was when we'd only get half of what we ordered, back when we used to have to order our groceries online and pick up curb-side. We have a super fast lunch because we want to take the dogs for a walk before we head out again. We know we will be gone most of the rest of the day into the evening. Once we are back home we give the girls a dog biscuit each. And we head out.
We're going to a movie, in a theater, indoor. It's a movie that was just released last Thursday. We've been waiting for this one for months and the only reason we didn't see it opening night is because we had the Paul McCartney concert at The Hollywood Bowl in LA. We have popcorn and we love this theater because it also has wine. We have a glass. It's handed to us by a real person behind a counter. There's no plexiglass dividing us. The movie is fantastic. It's a Oscar-contender. Of course, it would be...it's starring Meryl Streep.
By the time the movie is over it's dark outside. We head to downtown. We go to a restaurant. We don't have a reservation so we wait outside for our table. We have a glass of wine while we wait. Seems like there are 2 or 3 groups ahead of us, they're having wine too. We're all standing around. Not 6 feet part. I'm eavesdropping again. Because the things that used to be mundane daily activities now bring me joy.
Our name is called and the host takes us to our table. We come to the restaurant frequently, so the host knows us. He high-fives Nick. It's not elbows. It's real hand-slapping. We are seated. Our server comes to our table and hands us menus. None of us is wearing a mask.
I'm going to think good things all day today. I hope where ever you are in the world and in your life you're able to think all good things too. Let's Shine It Forward.
I loved reading this, Tracy. The little things have turned out to be the most profound experiences in life, haven't they? Gratitude. Appreciation. Living in the now. Words that became so much more about the little moments, since lockdown and life-changing events.