I love my book club. What started as an idea in 2017 has turned into a monthly gathering of women who laugh, cry, drink wine and connect. We talk about books of course but more importantly we talk about life. Our hopes and heartaches and quite literally everything in between.
For me, book club also fills a void. While I would love to pack up the kids and set sail for far away places, I have come to accept that my dream of being a vagabond family isn’t what the rest of my tribe desires. They love to travel but they LOVE the stability of home. And to be truthful, as much as I complain about the confines of a 9-5 job, I am grateful for a steady income and a pension plan.
We choose books with a travel theme or a story that takes place in another land. For now, while the kids are still young enough to need a mother in the same house (let alone on the same continent) book club will have to do.
This weekend, while much of the area I call home was blanketed in ice and snow (hello Mother Nature it’s f&^%$%ing April already) I read about a young couple in love who sailed across the Pacific to paradise. Our latests book club read.
For a few hours I was able to ignore the howling wind and imagine myself settling in on an island far away, glass of wine in hand.
One day, just not today.