The meet-ups always seem to last for three hours.
Two hours in, the food has been eaten, leftovers boxed up. Servers have refilled our water and tea, delivered and collected the check with a decent tip. Still we chatter on, talking about work, books, health, kids; money and retirement plans; the state of education, of government, of employment opportunities. The phones only come out to look something up, share a picture, add to a TBR pile. As the last hour winds down, we talk about how great it has been to sit like this, uninterrupted by work and family responsibilities. We make vague, hopeful plans to do this again soon.
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One month after officially retiring, these meals have been bright spots in the murky middle between the last job and the next steps. I value my friendships with these women. The one-on-one time outside of work settings reaffirms that we have connections that transcend shared careers and decades-old experience. Maybe now that I am taking back my time and energy, I can focus on expending both in continuing these soul-filling conversations.
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