I'm tired of tumultuous years.
RWA has been "the home place" for me for over 20 years. Even when I no longer belonged to a chapter, I still paid my national dues. I loved so much about it. I loved RWR. I loved that so many questions were answered, that so much was done over the years for authors, that it was a sisterhood to end all sisterhoods. I didn't love it all the time, though, and I didn't love everything about it, and this past weekend I resigned. I'm glad I did. It was time. The organization and I no longer did anything for each other. I felt, I told someone, as if I was deserting a sinking ship. I think I may have been, but the truth was that it was no longer my ship and there was no room for me on board.
Friendships have changed. Some have gone away completely. I miss those friends and them being non-responsive has left a blank spot I'm not sure how to fill up. I wonder what I did or didn't do even when common sense tells me I didn't do anything wrong. It was probably just time.
In some cases, it was probably political. Not only do we have different views, we can't even argue them civilly. I can't bear that I really never knew those people; I'm certain they feel the same way about me.
But now it's the end of the day. The year. The decade. But, actually, for me, those things are incidental. What really matters--again, for me--is that my family's alive and well and hilarious and that the man I've been married to for 48 years is still the man I'm married to. Not that my brothers died, but that they lived. And that even though it is the end of all those things I listed, it's the beginning of a whole bunch of others. And tomorrow, say Scarlett and I, is another day. (She may have said it first. And better.)
Happy New Year and blessings to you all. I wish you all a cup o' kindness.
Oh, and while you're here, it's the last day to enter the December giveaway. Go ahead--we'll wait!
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