Why I Love My Book Club

Just returned home from book club. It has been over ten years since this group started. One of my sons created a club and at that time, I thought I needed one too. Six women from the kids' swimming team agreed. We read the Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood that first meeting. While not original, we coined ourselves the Ya Ya's. We travelled together to Ireland and to Fernie and Canmore for retreats. It soon became more about the friendships and less about the books. Over the years new people joined in. Some stayed. Some didn't. They moved away. Or decided they didn't like us. Some wanted other things. Over the last twelve years, we've shared a lot of our lives with each other. There have been divorces, and cancers. We've buried our loved ones. We've celebrated weddings, grandchildren's births, batmitzvah's, graduations. We've exchanged notes on menopause, adult children, and traded holiday tips. We've bemoaned the challenges of aging parents and have watched with delight new love. We've documented our children's maturing.

I have thought recently that the book club had perhaps become stale or more importantly that I no longer was getting what I needed from such a club. Perhaps it was time to say adieu, so long, farewell. Our busy lives don't allow for many opportunities outside that monthly meeting for other activities. We no longer refer to ourselves as Ya Ya's. Not that this is a bad thing. It was kind of trendy in the first place. The books this year were neither remarkable nor memorable. Perhaps others were feeling this too.

Yet here I am home from book club tonight with a smile on my face and lots of chocolate in my tummy. Laughing about Amy's Mitch eating rabbit turds. Thinking about Jan's beautiful green coat. Wondering how Shelley can concentrate on knitting and keeping up a conversation. Admiring Linda for her dedication to early morning rowing. Stiff and just a little arthritic from walking with Janine to book club. Anticipating the next chapter as Carla and Jean retire next year. And sharing similar concerns with Liz as we let go of our adult children. These are indeed my dearest friends. I love their wisdom. I love their candid truth. I love that they humor me when I go therapy shopping at Winner's. I love that they make me laugh and feel loved and supported.

So tonight I await our next book club meeting which won't even be about a book at all. It will be about the friendships and connections and laughter and joy that being with friends provides.