Tomorrow morning is the last writing class until fall.
I am feeling sadness and disappointment. It’s like meeting a new best friend at camp - you spend nearly all your time with each other like you’ve been together forever, then boom! the week is gone and you go home with only your crafts and a few photos to confirm it actually happened. Luckily, I have the fall to look forward to when I hope class will resume. And I have better than a few crafts; I have pages of thoughts, ideas, and history that have poured out over the past 12 weeks, I have readings from authors I've never heard of and I have the gift of sharing with other writers and hearing their fascinating, heart-rending, funny, sublime, fantastical stories.
I have met women I’d not ever have met otherwise and learned from their wisdom, pain and joy. I have laughed, cried, been in awe and profoundly touched by such gifted and brave creatures. This has been a spring I shall treasure. This is the spring I began to even consider writing as a creative endeavor. I love summer and don't want to wish it away, but I can’t wait for the next installment.
Thank you Valley.
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