Time is a curious thing. It’s the digits on my phone. It’s a date in my calendar. It is a feeling. It’s an element out of control. It slows down when you want it to gallop. It rushes through when you want it to stop. A year can be a number of months, days, hours. It is a frame for emotions, experiences, people you’ve met, places you’ve been. How long is a year for you?
Two years ago, I met three extraordinary women that have been changing my life since. It has also been a year since I last saw them. A year is a number here. I didn’t feel it at all.
We gathered in a small town in southern Germany. Tubingen. It is a name you probably never came across before. I haven’t. It welcomed us with the sun. It opened its arms and we walked across its narrow streets and steep hills, we swam down it river.
Most of all we talked, discussed, laughed and argued. Each of us is on a different path now. We are spread across Europe. Yet, we come together when it matters most. No topic was left untouched. We complained about governments, politicians, policies. We debated how to change what we don’t like, how to improve what we can. We talked about love. We talked about struggle.
We talked about what it means to be a woman. Feminism, motherhood, career, tenderness. Everything together, yet each a piece of a puzzle. Nothing defining, nothing limiting, nothing forgiving.
We talked about the future. We shared dreams, fears, and hope. We shared life.
I am grateful and honoured to have them in my life. One year separated, three days together. I feel closer to them than ever. They are a support group I wish everyone had. They are a brainstorm everyone needs. They are the power that the world demands.
Here we all are, surrounded by flowers and light. Their arms wrapped around me. My heart wrapped around them. A blessing for all. The brightest of souls.