The Womb

Every Friday night I meet my girlfriends for dinner. We always go to the same bar, a small, dark wood paneled little hole in the wall that is steeped in history. It is beautiful, cozy and wonderful. We are so regular that the waitresses know us, our drinks and our food. The girls and I come together to lament about work, men, being left wing in a right wing town and events of the week. This is a safe place. This is where we share our secrets, our feelings, our defeats and our triumphs. I know within these walls, with these people; I am safe, I am accepted. I will support and care for them and they for me. I know this without hesitation. I know that these two hours of the week are precious and I would not trade them for all the riches in the world. Then at the end of it, we part with well wishes for the week and are expelled into the light, cold world. The world where people may not care for us or accept us. But we get through it to come together, share and be safe again.

It's a jungle out there... take care of each other.