I love how the cat always greets people with her presence and her voice, how they make themselves at home in my home, how attentively we read and how openly and fiercely we discuss each other's writing.
I love how much we laugh when we're together, how friendly we became from the beginning, how much we trust each other, how we encourage and support and nudge each other.
I loved taking the Tweetspeak Poetry workshop On Being A Writer, which gave participants a gentle push toward finding embodied writing community where we live, and I love that it is being offered again this year, and a new round of writers will receive its gifts and bear its fruits.
I love the way the place feels after people have been over — rooms clean and uncluttered, sure, but also they way their essence lingers, and I can bask in it while I put away the leftover snacks and wash up our dishes.
I love each of these women. And I love it that every single one of them said yes (in an "Of course. Why would you even ask?" way) when I offered them some of a friend's mother's homemade fruitcake.
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