This is a lovely post about an important topic!
I belong to a book club where, at 55, I’m the youngest member. The oldest member is 92 and there is another member who turned 90 this year. I’m reluctant member of the group because I like to read spontaneously and don’t like having reading deadlines. I don’t like having to finish a book I’m not immediately drawn into – there are too many other books barking for my attention. But I go because it’s such an honor to be in the presence of these well-read, spicy, and insightful women.
Our most recent book was Wild by Cheryl Strayed, a book about grief, something everyone in the group is familiar with. Once you’ve reached a certain age, you’ve survived devastating losses of loved ones. It’s part of the price you pay for survival.
A few days before the group was to meet, I got the story book, Cry, Heart, But…
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