- Writing is hard. Each week, I only had to bring 2 pages, but I THOUGHT about what to write for hours, days, not weeks. Then I sat down to write and entangled myself in a wrestling match with the keyboard: “This is what I want it to SAY, but you’re getting it all wrong. Ugh.” Of the pieces that I wrote, one of them felt a little inspired. The others, forced.
- I was embarrased when it was my turn to share my writing. I felt my cheeks heating up. “Don’t react,” I whispered in my head. “It’s not a big deal; just nice friends listening to one of your stories.”
- I loved hearing these other women’s stories, learning about their impressive lives, hearing their voices in their writing, and creating new friendships.
- My husband is incredible; this wasn’t a new finding, just reiterated over and over as he took Dom each Thursday night for the last month and a half to eat the dinner that he made, play, bathe, read stories, go to bed, while I went to a class just for me. And I got to share one of Nathan’s poems with the class. I was tempted to bring more just to show off, but I resisted.
- It was nice doing something just for me. I thought that I might feel guilty for taking an evening to myself even while working full time, but it was okay. Great, actually. Dom got quality time with Dad, too.
- I hope to keep tabs on these women, my new friends, even though the class is over. It was a class full of fabulous.