Community. Connection. Recalibration.
I had an epiphany this week. It happened during a deep conversation with my daughter. Here it is:
Life will suck sometimes. Sadness, strife, sickness, and other uncontrollable or unexpected events will happen. The lousy makes the good even better. You may say “Duh, Dara.” But I’ve felt swallowed by a quicksand of worry.
Time to pivot. Time to recalibrate. And time to remember that now is all we have. What better way to be present than connecting with old and new friends?
Cindy (below) and I have chatted for months. We’ve attempted to meet but something has always come up, rerouting our plans. It finally happened! Cindy is exuberant and hilarious; we bantered about books and well, everything! We laughed at the irony of our meeting at an Israeli restaurant on Purim and St. Paddy’s Day.
Earlier in the week, my dear friend, Darcey, led another amazing discussion for Moms Don’t Have Time To Write. So proud of her and how she’s created an inclusive, inspiring community. I’m grateful that these women (below) understand connection and kindness. (More on that in an upcoming story.)
What an incredibly evocative discussion. I loved hearing insights from author Julianna Miner about her relatable essay, “A Twilit Walk Down Memory Lane,” published on Moms Don’t Have Time to Write.
But wait there’s more! My first in-person author event (finally!)–Local Author Fest. Linda Rosen, Jacquie Herz, Karen E. Osborne, and many others spoke at the Delray Beach Public Library, moderated by Ann Bocock of the PBS show “Between the Covers.” Two dozen authors read excerpts from their novels. I’ve met and chatted with many of these lovely women for months but nothing replaces a HUG. I was also honored to speak on a podcast panel, along with other writers, for the South Florida chapter of the Women’s National Book Association (the sponsor of this event).
And two of my closest friends visited my home on different days this week. We talked, laughed, and cried a bit. Uninterrupted (almost–the pups joined us) connection on my cozy couch. No rushing. No Zoom screen. The snapshots of our conversations reside in my heart.
Just before the doorbell rang, palm fronds flew and coconuts scattered across my backyard. A sudden intense storm blew a chair into the pool. And then I sensed my husband’s mother–her presence–and peeked out the window. She showed up in the sky once again. Only minutes after I’d just received amazing news (stay tuned!).
I am beyond thankful for this full week of connection and community.