I was on my way to the Hout Bay writers’ group meet up. It’s a monthly occurrence and I make sure that I’m there, every single time. It’s just too special to miss.
And so I wound my way along the coastal road and once again, I drank in the waves lapping against smooth rocks. The news was about to begin and I’d leaned forward to turn the radio off. This was a journey I had taken many times over the years but it was different now. Every moment of it was precious. I no longer lived in the ‘hood. I was officially a visitor from the Overberg. A fairly regular one, but still an outsider.
Funny that. Our Hout Bay group has been up and running for years now. These days, only two of the members are actually from the area! But we meet there and always will. I even invite myself to sleep over with one of the tribe, to avoid a night drive home. (Joke. I am invited.)
After an evening of repartee and feedback on each others submissions, I made my way to my home from home. The next morning, I set off for the Overberg. Well actually, I first took a little detour past the DGS school in Valley road. The building was there but everything else had moved and I felt a sudden longing for a time and space that no longer existed. Nothing lasts forever of course. But its all there, safely stored in my box of memories.
Despite the cancer/corona journey and the terrible wars all over the world, I am grateful for many things. The Hout Bay writers’ group is definitely up there. We have been through some times together. There have been huge disappointments and amazing successes, for us all. And I have learnt, without a shadow of a doubt, that it is not about the querying trenches and the publishing possibilities. Those are the bonuses of course. But its the words that come from our hearts and land on the pages, that really matter. I believe that.
And its when we do, that magic happens…