Republic of Toma

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Writers Group

“Tears from different emotions have different shapes.” Amy says. I put my fork down. Mid-bite. This seems revolutionary. I’m a crier. Tears spring forth in any number of situations. We were at Laura’s for writers group, but Katya couldn’t join. She was on deadline. Katya is the youngest in our group and the next JK Rowling. She had a book contract. We other 3 are 20 years her senior and take her wisdom very seriously. Laura is telling us she’s not a cook. This said as she’s made homemade sourdough bread and a quiche with home made crust that folds over the edge of the pie. She’s just planted her terrace, and I have a longing for an outdoor space. When the bloody renovation is complete on my apartment I promise myself to do window boxes. I have a brown thumb. When I first met Kai I remember telling him, a gardener, that I was a cold blooded killer. A plant murderer. “Use my garden designer” she said. “He will help you get the window boxes right.” Pietro had given me his window box carcasses months ago so now all I need is this bloody construction to end. “They say gardening is good for the soul” Laura says, “but maybe not so good when you’re killing things.” We are a writers group but today we are not reading our writing. “I’m exhausted.” I confess.”Maybe it’s depression.” I say. “Or menopause.” says Laura. Amy chimed in, “Or sadness. As a doctor I want to point out depression is without reason. You have reason. That’s sadness.” As a child, I wasn’t taught to name the emotions. I was told not to be difficult. Or stubborn. My feelings interfered with how my parents wanted me to feel. “You need to write.” Amy said. “To process through what ails you.” She might not have said “ails” but it’s a word I can see Amy using. “I’m afraid.” I confessed. “Of this next stage of writing my book. I need to get organized. Get the words in order. Make sure the story makes sense. Fill in the missing gaps. But I can’t seem to give organization a chance.” “Are you afraid of success or failure?” Amy asked. I pause. “Failure.” Success comes naturally. I expect success. But nothing else has mattered to me this much. What if I fall? “Oh but darling what if you fly?” my soul speaks up.


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