The other week, I went to a friend’s house with my husband in tow just so I could borrow a bunch of books. I took the hubby with me because there were 7 huge hardcover books and they were damn heavy.
The week before that, I bonded with another friend (my bestie here in the US) watching beautiful, ethereal cherry blossoms. And had a nice late lunch after, needless to say.
And the week before that, I was with other friends at book club discussing a good historical fiction while sipping on wine and munching on yummy chocolate sourdough bread that one of the book club ladies made.
And it’s got me thinking how far I’ve come since I first got here in the US, alone and knowing literally no one aside from my husband and his family. I have always been an introvert, but apparently, I still need some human connection after all. And so I put myself out there way out of my comfort zone, and was richly rewarded by meeting all the lovely people I now call my friends. Who would have thought?
