I was telling a story today at work to one of my colleagues. We had been talking about families and kids the sometimes odd things that they do and how crazy they can drive us. I was sharing a story about two of my boys from many years ago. Two things occurred to me, even as I was blithering on telling her the story.

What was it that I wanted so badly? Time Time was what I wanted. Not just any old kind of time though. I wanted time to myself. Time that was just for me to use as I wanted. Time that was for my. Selfish time that had only one focus, me. Nothing, for the most part. Do I spend hours writing and creating like I always wanted to, but never had the time for? No, barely ever.