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I walk into the coffee shop, and the scent of coffee and pastries instantly soothes my nerves. I wish I didn't have such a sweet tooth, but also… YOLO and all that.

The building is old, probably built in the Victorian era. It has high ceilings with an intricate scroll design engraved on it. The hardwood floor creaks beneath me, making me wonder if they’re the original floors. It’s a beautiful building.

After looking over the menu, I decide to stick with my favorite, a caramel macchiato. I walk toward the large wooden coffee counter and give the barista my order. As I’m waiting for my coffee, I notice a sign for Wonderful Widows with an arrow indicating they meet down the hallway behind me.

Once I have my drink in hand, I follow the arrow down the long hallway, towards the back of the building. I come to a door and hear voices on the other side. Slowly, I push the door open and peek my head inside. All the talking stops and the women stare at me curiously. There are five women sitting in a circle of comfy armchairs. Their ages probably range from thirty to eighty.

“Are you Sophie?” One of the older ladies asks in a sweet voice.

I step inside the room and gently close the door behind me. “Yes, is this Wonderful Widows?”

“That would be us!” She says with a smile, her blue eyes glinting with kindness. “Ladies, let’s welcome our newest member, Sophie.”

Everyone says hello and I take the open seat in the circle. “Hey, everyone,” I mutter shyly.

I’m not usually shy, but these women are looking at me like they can see through me and straight into my soul. It’s probably just knowing they’ve lost their spouse just as I have, but we all instantly have an unspoken understanding of each other. There’s no hiding from them, and that’s the scary part.

“It’s okay to be nervous, pumpkin. Why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves?” She pauses. “I’m Bernice, I lost my husband ten years ago, and this is my sister, Gerda.” She gestures to the older woman next to her.

They both have the same white, back-combed hairstyle, making me wonder if they go to the salon together. “We both lost our husbands within a year of each other and decided to start this group together to help other widows have a safe space to talk about the struggles of losing someone dear to you.”

Bernice looks at Gerda expectantly, waiting for her to introduce herself. “Well, you already introduced me! What am I supposed to say now?” Gerda says in a cantankerous voice.

“Oh, stop your fussing. I was just explaining how we started the group!”

Gerda smirks. “Alright fine, you bossy thing. I’m Gerda, the younger sister.” She bats her seemingly non-existent eyelashes at her sister.

Bernice rolls her eyes. “I’m only one year older than you.”

“Still older,” Gerda replies in a mischievous tone.

The young blonde woman next to Gerda clears her throat. “I’m Ashley. I lost my husband four years ago. I have two children, six and eight. And I recently got engaged,” she adds with a blush.

“And boy howdy, is he easy on the eyes!” Gerda whistles.

Bernice fans herself dramatically. “Oh, he really is!”

Ashley shakes her head. “You two, can’t you at least try to behave yourselves when we have a newbie?”

The woman sitting next to Ashley laughs at their antics. She has sleek, dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She has a youthful appearance, but the fine lines around her eyes make me think she must be older than she seems at first glance—maybe forty?

“Hey, I’m Lisa. My husband passed away eight years ago. I’m a nurse at Woodford Medical Center. My late husband and I never had children, but I do have three cats that I adore.”

Bernice mutters what sounds like, “crazy cat lady,” between coughs.

“Yep! I am a crazy cat lady, and proud of it!” Lisa unzips her hoodie, revealing a t-shirt that has a photo of her cats on it, making us all giggle.

The fifth woman seems more reserved than the others. She also seems to be the youngest. With dark hair pulled up in a bun on top of her head, a few loose curls resting on her nape and forehead, she’s strikingly beautiful. She looks up at me with her big, brown eyes and smiles.

“I’m Evie. I lost my husband six months ago.” Her voice wavers, but she continues, “I have a little boy named Dalton. He’s four.” She grins, showing obvious adoration for her child. “I teach english at Foxwood High School.”

Everyone’s attention returns to me, awaiting my introduction. Having just taken a big sip of my macchiato, I gulp it down quickly.

“It’s really great to meet you all.” I lick my lips, thinking of what I want to say. “I’m Sophie, my husband was killed in action in Afghanistan a little over three years ago.” I pause for a second, hearing their audible gasps around the circle. “I have a little girl named Samantha. She’s three years old now. Last year, I started teaching third grade, and I recently moved out of my parent’s house.”

“We’re so sorry for your loss, Sophie.” Bernice says gently. The rest of the women nod in agreement.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry for your losses as well,” I say with genuine empathy, glancing around the circle at the women surrounding me.