I want to tell stories. Drift away with my writing, sinking deep into the words. I want to create story boards, nurture ideas and illustrate characters. I want to dig deep withing to divulge my passions. I want to write and have time to really feel it. I want time to be the writer I want to be. But time is not on side, right now responsibilities pull me away. My life beckons me to be present. To be there to ‘do’ the work necessary to be ‘mom’. Right now all I have are stolen moments of time.
Stolen moments only tease my desires, like secret kisses in the moonlight. Taunting and flirting. They pull me along for the ride, keeping me intrigued and entertained. Allowing me to believe something real can come from these rendezvous at midnight. My current relationship with writing is like a fiery and passionate love affair. An affair full of desire, allowing an escape from monotony of my current life.
My affair is turbulent. It has no stability or security. The intensity is strong. I feel passionate and energetic when I am given the moments to write and really create the art that I love. This keeps me snatching my stolen moments, even if it is all I have. If these moments fuel the dream for just a little longer. The dream can be a reality, with enough passion and love, it can blossom into something real. With enough stolen moments of time.