It’s permanently on my calendar.
It’s always the first Wednesday of every month.
Same time.
Same place.
Sad stories.
Insatiable longing.
Todd was out of town.
The sitter was booked.
But I didn’t want to go.
Not tonight.
I just wasn’t feeling it, that strength needed to share and take in the updates or be supportive.
All day long I kept thinking, there are a hundred things I’d rather do and places I’d rather be, it’s okay to miss one meeting.
But then I forgot to cancel the sitter and when she arrived at our front door I was giddy with delight and got in my car with every intention of going to a movie or the mall. Hiding out at a warm bookstore or nearby Starbucks sounded like the perfect way to spend three hours.
My car, as if it had a mind of it’s own, took the same route I take every other first Wednesday of the month and before I knew it I was sitting with my fellow infertile soldiers baring my soul and sharing the latest stumbling block in my journey.
I laughed, I cried, I tried to be encouraging, nodded with compassion and understanding and I was supported in kind.
I left feeling better and ready to take on a new day… until next month.
