I’ve blogged incessantly about my love for Kris Radish’s My Elegant Gathering of White Snows which is fairly obvious considering I named my blog after it. I’ve been too scared to read anymore in case they aren’t as good. I was totally wrong. I’m about 15% of the way into The Sunday List of Dreams and it is fabulous. I’ll write a proper review later but I love this bit so much I had to share it now:
It is female communion. That astounding crossing of cultures and ages and time and place that wraps women together and makes them one. It is a holy moment, a sacred sharing of estrogen, a remarkable gift of love. It can happen in a public waiting room when a stranger asks another woman to hold her baby – her beautiful baby – when she needs to go to the bathroom. It can happen when you see a woman on a street corner and two guys are hassling her and you open your car door and she gets in without hesitation. It can happen when you see a woman at the grocery store crying because she is a dollar short and you pay her bill and carry her groceries to the car with kids and then slip her another 20 bucks. It can happen when you are at a play and that woman you saw arguing with that asshole man won’t come out of the last toilet stall of the bathroom until you hand her some toilet paper and then she cries into your shoulder and you give her the phone number of the women’s shelter. It can happen when your mother tells you about her first love and your heart stops because you realise your father was her second choice. It can happen anywhere – this female communion where women feel safe and close and absolutely as if they have touched a piece of heaven because of you.
Is that not utterly beautiful?