Yesterday I was supposed to fly to Seattle, then drive up to Whidbey Island for the August residency of my MFA alma mater.  Everyone is there, bonding, writing, reading, and enjoying the stunning beauty of Whidbey Island, and yet I’m here in New Jersey.  I had to cancel my trip due to post-surgery restrictions.  Doctors!  Geez.

Anyway, it’s tough to read everyone’s Facebook updates and blog posts about how awesome it is.  The thing I miss most about not being there is the bonding.  To me, residencies mean days within close quarters of some of my all-time favorite people.  And the laughing — oh my God, I’ve laughed myself sick there.  Obviously, there is the writing and the learning, too.  It’s all good stuff.  Of course, I’m not a student any more, but the alumni association has a reunion each August residency, and I also have the option of sitting in on some of the afternoon sessions, so it’s almost like being back for real.

My biggest regret about not being there this time is that my dear friend and fellow LA Review editor, Kelly Davio, is graduating this weekend.  I promised her I’d be there to see her graduate, and now I can’t be.  The disappointment — oy!  It goes deep.  I will tell you this: Kelly’s thesis manuscript is one of the best books of poetry I’ve ever read.  It’ll get picked up quickly, I have no doubt.  When it does, run out and buy it.  You’ll be glad you did.