Lesley Residency 4.8

Sitting at a table at Cambridge Commons with my best friends from the program, just a wee bit drunk, I smiled and I laughed. It had been a hard day for many of us. It’s been a hard week, and a long one. But sitting there with my friends, feeling secure in the fact that I am not alone in this endeavor, I was really content. I was really happy.

We started off with a larger group, including Deidre, Bradley, and Mary, but eventually it wore down to just me and Sara and Jill and Shera. Shera and Jill did not drink nearly as much as Sara and I did, but everyone seemed to be in a jovial mood. Even when we wandered off to dark places, as we brooding writers are sometimes apt to do, those excursions were not long-lived.

Our day had begun with a somewhat upsetting meeting on the logistics of our final semester and the portion of next residency that we, as graduating students, will attend. There was news of a fee we hadn’t been anticipating, which, though it was later cleared up for us, was just horrible, horrible news at the time. There was general grumbling about a number of things. It was not fun.

After lunch I even found myself alone in a classroom, crying my eyes out. I was comforted to learn later on that I wasn’t the only one who all of this was getting to.

We had our final workshop—Bradley managed to spill something in my general direction for the third day in a row—and then we hung out at a coffee shop down the street while we worked out our semester study plans with our advisor, Tony.

Dinner and a reading featuring David Elliot and Indira Ganesan followed, and then drinks. It was a hard day, but a good one.