My Love of Writing

It’s nearly 2 a.m. so it’s quiet

The sleepy breathing of my son a few feet from me,

I type furiously; A smile I can’t escape.

This. This is why we fell in love.

This rush

Of telling a story that I’m passionate about.

My love projects I call them;

Few and far in between.

Most stories pay the bills,

Ones like this feed my soul.

I was…

7 years old winning an award for a poem about a snowflake

A sophomore in high school writing about careers in journalism

On the college newspaper before I was in a class

Writing an op/ed piece at 19 about being a SAHM/writer

Keeping my maiden name because I was first published under it, dammit!

You were my first real love.

You held me close through trials and joys both.

Then, when I held my heart outside of my body, you allowed me to make a living while holding him close.

I am eternally grateful.

There’s been times I’ve begrudged you.

Being a writer feels like having eternal homework;

Procrastination my biggest enemy,

My mind never being able to shut off.

I wanted to leave you behind,

But still, I always came back to you.

There’s a bit of ego, a bit of pride, but mostly gratitude to God for this gift and this journey.

I see the world in stories

And you allow me to tell those stories to others.

I am so grateful for you as I struggle with a sense of self;

You help me to find my center

As another chapter of my life unfolds.