I grew up in one of those towns that looks like it came straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. The place seemed then, and still seems now, untouched by time. My parents were average middle class people who worked hard, but also took time to enjoy relationships with family and friends. My mom was a stay at home mom during my early years. She was the kind of mom who would pack a picnic lunch on a hot summer day and take us to the park to meet up with friends for lunch; afterward walking with us to the ice cream shoppe for a refreshing treat. She would play weeklong games of monopoly with us and laugh as we got into knock down drag outs over the value of Park Place on the open market.
I remember when my mom decided to go back to college. My sister was in school full time by then and I was nearing the end of my grammar school experience. I remember being incredibly proud of her. Looking back I guess I find it interesting that I don’t recall any sense of loss when my mom started to pursue her career. I only remember that it seemed to open doors for me. I always had a sense that interesting things could still happen at any age. That making a decision to do something at a certain point didn’t necessarily resign you to it’s fate. That there were always, always, always, going to be opportunities.
It’s been hard to arrive in my mid thirties and realize that though those opportunities are certainly out there for the taking (after all my mom didn’t even begin to pursue her college education until her late thirties) the doors aren’t as easy to open any more. Not only are there more obstacles to overcome but life has a way of dampening dreams and altering an outlook. While I know that any thing is possible and that being 34 isn’t exactly old, I also fear I’ve come to a place where I realize that I won’t live forever. Life is uncertain and if I don’t start embarking on some of these journeys that lie before me, I may run out of time.
So it is I begin my blog.
The question is this : What is my passion? My mom’s passion was to teach. She pursued it and has been content in it for 20 years now. I’ve been wondering lately then what it is that I’m passionate about that way. What could I do that would keep me excited for years like that? My mom wanted to be a teacher since she was a little girl. She always knew what her passion was. I decided to look back into my childhood to understand what it was that excited me that way? As a kid I was always happiest when I had a notepad and pen in hand. I would cuddle up beneath the huge maple tree in our back yard and crank out poem after poem, or begin great works of fiction. There were times I even created covers for my stories and gave them away to the younger neighborhood kids. Writing continued to be important to me throughout high school and even adulthood. I guess I just didn’t realize how passionate I was about it until now. I am untrained. I have achieved no level of higher education.
I just have a passion.
I’m thirty four years old and jaded or not the world is still mine for the taking. So I’m going to write. I’m going to write because it’s my passion. I’m going to write because thanks to the land of cyberspace, the opportunity is before me and thanks to mom I know I can.