One Last Time

(Written for the last session of my writing circle for this semester.)

So many first times. 

A first kiss, a first dog who is all your responsibility, a first tequila shot.  The first quilt you make without help from your mom and grandma.  The first time you vote for a President, the first time you have sex, your first child.  Your first grandchild.

Why, if you work hard enough at it, you could have a “first” every day – the first Tolstoy novel you actually finish, the first time you walk a 5K, the first time you bake yeast bread, the first time you go to a restaurant and sit all by yourself, the first time you put oat milk in your coffee instead of half and half. 

But what about last times?  Last times are on my mind lately, maybe because I’ve passed the 60 mark and think often of my mom, who wasn't given as many years as I have.  How many things were her last and she never knew? 

When will be the last time I sit at the piano and play?  When will be the last time I have sex?  When will be the last time I drive a car?  Plant a garden? Read a novel?  Kiss a baby?  Sit at the computer and type out words and feelings and intense narratives and wacky scenarios? 

I know I’ve probably already passed a lot of last times.  I’ve probably had the last time I’ll be in the basement of a fraternity house, drinking directly from the keg.  I’ll probably never play on a teeter totter again (at the advice of my orthopedic surgeon).  I’ll probably never work another 40-hour week full-time job. I’ll probably never perm my hair again.

And after today, I’ll probably never participate in a Women Writing For a Change Zoom circle, facilitated by Rebekah  (another worldwide pandemic notwithstanding.)  I remember my first circle well – walking into the schoolhouse, nervous about what was going to happen in there.  Should I sit on a chair or on the floor?  What should I write?  What should I read?  Why am I here?  Rebekah made it more comfortable.  Over the weeks, months, years that I have been in Rebekah’s circles, I’ve added so many books (and favorite poets) to my poetry collection, added Iona to my travel bucket list, added oracle cards to my daily routine, added profanity to my writing without shame.  I’ve been encouraged and motivated by Rebekah, moved beyond explanation by the words shared in the circles, by the love that has emanated from that sharing, by the amazing friendships forged with the brightest, most thoughtful women.   I know I am a different woman since I started sitting in these circles – I’ve actually been told that, and know it in my heart and gut to be true – and I am a thankful woman, having taken a circuitous route into the circle that has brought me to a place I now know that I always belonged. 

So even though I know this is my last semester Zoom circle with Rebekah, I know there will never be an end to the influence she has had and joy she has brought not only to my writing, but to my life.  Hopefully, this is not my last circle – I’m ready to make that weekly drive to Bloomington again – and I’m thankful for new firsts, because this first was one of the best.

Thanks, Rebekah, and all my WWFaC sisters.

Georgiann Coons     5/2/2022