I am the youngest member of a book club 📖
I live in a small town that has just built a brand-new public library. I decided this would be a wonderful opportunity to push myself out of my comfort zone by joining a book club targeted at adults. I have wanted to expand my reading palette and thought this would be a great way to do so! When I walked into the meeting room, I was ready to be greeted by a group of adults in their mid-twenties to maybe even early thirties, prepared to take my people skills to a whole new level and walk out of this book club with so many new friends, or at least an expanded social circle. It was at this moment that I realized that the term “adult” does not target just a specific age group, and I should have probably considered what I was getting myself into.
On a Tuesday afternoon around lunchtime, I walk into a room with fifteen women, ranging from their forties to their eighties. They each had a large print book in hand, gossiping and catching up with each other before the meeting starts.I immediately regretted my decision to sign up for this book club and was constantly thinking about walking out and forgetting it happened. I sat on the far side of the group in hopes that I could find a moment to plan my escape. Despite my immediate urgency to leave and never come back, I stayed in my seat, paying attention to the group as they begin their discussion. Even though I had not read the book from last month’s meeting, I found myself still very interested in their informal discussions. There were many insights that they gathered that I knew I would feel differently on, but I also found out that I had a lot in common with these twenty strangers.
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