Friday was the first day of the first MFA residency I will not be attending since January, 2010. Every residency started on a Friday, each January and June. Friday was the day I normally flew up and reunited with friends like long-lost family. Friday was the meet & greet with new students. Friday was the day we all attended the welcome reception with Steven's announcements and the inevitable call to Jana or Janet for help.
Last Friday I felt the phantom pain of not traveling, of not hugging and laughing and going out for dinner and drinks.
For those who don't know, I graduated from a low-residency MFA program this past January. Prior to that, every six months I traveled to Cambridge, MA, to attend a 10-day residency at the campus of my school.
This past Friday, at the time I normally would have been landing at BOS, I met a friend at Starbucks here in Georgia. Ever the people-watcher, I couldn't keep my attention only at my table, and I watched/listened to two guys across the patio who were clearly from Boston, hanging out in my small Georgia town. They had the unmistakable accents, and one of them wore a Fenway t-shirt. Universe! Must you rub it in?
I'm sure I'm not the first or only graduate of a low-residency program to feel this way. This is not anything special. But I can't not talk about how I miss the camaraderie, the creative and intellectual stimulation, the conversations over dinner & over drinks later, hearing other writers' work & learning from the way they think about their work. Sharing life.
I miss you, A, M, L, M, E, S, R, S, S, L, ... Can I just say, I miss you Lesley posse?