Yes. In that order.
I always thought once I reached a certain age, I would have less complications in my life. I now know that was bullshit to the highest power.
There are second-generation issues from my babies.
There are third-generation issues from my gbabies.
Everything else steps aside for them.
I write every weekday morning, Saturday, and occasionally Sunday. This morning, I chose to write and work on my book cover for "Dream Walker". (I DO like my period outside the quote marks.)
I edit from the beginning of DW, do a bit of stitching (pulling scenes together, adding chapter headings), and write on a couple of scenes.
FB message from middle child. She is encountering a large amount of stress. Would like my thoughts on something. My pleasure. We chat for a few. I think she feels a bit better as we wrap up.
I go back to the written work.
Ten to fifteen minutes later, oldest child snaps me and asks if I'm busy and if he can vent. Nope. Not busy. Hit me, child.
Snappity snaps.
Writing is my passion. I often joke I would be the woman in Bellevue, back in the day with a piece of chalk in her hand, content to scribble on walls the rest of her days. I know for sure I wouldn't have been let loose on the streets. But I digress.
But those who come from me are my soul. These are the pieces of me left long after I've disappeared from this earth. They deserve my love, time, and support more than any one or thing.
That is perspective.
If it takes me a wee bit longer to finish DW, then I suppose it takes a bit longer.
Always writing*
...and searching for the purrfect gif...
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