Book club is…

Unexpectedly wonderful. I say "unexpected" because it turned out to not really be about books at all.

Heidi and I had been scheming to form a book club with the other delightful women in our neighborhood. We plotted an organizational kick-off meeting for March 8. Heidi couldn't make it at the last minute, and one other gal had a rock in her shoe or the sun in her eyes — I forget the exact reason. So it was just six of us in the end.

And we did discuss books. Briefly. But honestly, it was an opportunity for six women to come to my house and just be together for a little while. The invitation said 5–6:30, but it was well after 8 when they all finally walked home. We laughed, had some drinks, gossiped, and made future plans for "book club" — heavy on the quotation marks.

The value of community is not lost on me. I find myself craving it more than at any other time in my life — the simple magic of talking some wonderful women into coming over once a month and sharing a little fellowship. That we might occasionally discuss a book is a bonus.