Before the Dawn

They say, “You want something done, give it to a busy person.”

So true. I was called an energizer bunny the other day because I have ideas brimming over and want to do new things all the time. Isn’t that the spice of life?

What fun, what joy, that I have the opportunity to create opportunities, the passion to try new things, the confidence that it’s ok if it succeeds or fails. As we near the end of this calendar year, I’ve been reflecting on the past year.

It began with tumult and smoothed out after the first quarter to an even keel. But it wasn’t until after April, when I attended Yoga Shelter’s Life Training, that the ride truly evened out.

There have still been bumps in the road, annoyances, shifts and flows. I just haven’t reacted to any of them. It’s all good, that’s my mantra, and It Is. All. Good.

Of course it’s dark now, before even the sun starts its daily ascent. No shades of pink or orange in my sky. All black and the heat blows continuously through the vents. Still cold. The boys are watching TV. My girl sleeps.

First cup of coffee, nearly gone. I’ve been wanting to write for ages. I have this vision of waking before the dawn each day as I always do and instead of working, checking email or packing lunches, I devote a full hour to writing. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, something for ME. A story to tell, for there are many.

My children learned yesterday that the word Hanukkah means dedication. Ah so. To what are we dedicating our time?

If I may make a resolution early, it will be to work ever harder toward work:life balance in the new year, to write in the mornings and rest in the evenings. I still want the cafe on the mountain, and ocean views not hard to find. I want a year of living by the sea in a little cottage where I write all the stories that swirl in the tide.

And I want what I have right now.

Asher and I had a conversation not long ago. “I never get what I want,” he whined.

“What is it that you want?” I asked.

“Well…nothing really.”

“Oh! How fortunate. You are rich, then.”

“I’m not rich, Mommy.” He scowled as only an 8-year-old can do.

“Well, if you want what you have and nothing more, then you are truly rich,” I said.

He scrunched his face in annoyance. Foiled again. Like a superhero a few minutes too late to the scene, cape dragging behind.

But it’s a beautiful moment, when your child realizes he has everything he needs.

Have a good day, my friends. I will write more soon. After all, it’s the promise to myself.

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