If friendship is encouragement, support and wanting the best for another person, then a writer’s critique group can be the best example of friends. Of course that depends on the group. Our small group started before 1995. It’s changed over the years. People have come and gone, much the same as any group of friends. I might never have known the joy of being in a group like this if it wasn’t for my mom.

            My mother was born in Scotland. Maybe it’s the culture that keeps alive the artistry of story telling, but my mom definitely had the gift.  From childhood she’d entertain me with stories from her past. My mind would wander through highland glens or the halls of ancient castles. In my teens she’d always have cookies or scones for my afterschool friends, and more often then not, someone would get her to tell a story about her past. I know, it’s hard to imagine a group of high school teens enthralled by the tale of tough Canadian Commandos, who were afraid to return to their base because the place was haunted.

            As an adult I knew she was born to write. I was just along for the ride. Literally. Like many World War II survivors, some commonplace things, like learning to drive, didn’t happen. So I was her company and her transportation. And she was the writer. We took classes together, and we joined this writer’s group. Now I wonder if it wasn’t so much me doing this for her, as much as my mum giving me the gift of telling a good story to friends.