As the school year draws to a close for my son and he shows his growing pride in his new found command of French and various other skills he has learn since since September I find myself reflecting more and more over my own childhood days.
Unlike my son, who has a very strong command of and even stronger interest in science and math, I leaned heavily towards English and writing. Even at so early an age as he is now my imagination was awash with a million ideas dying to spring forth and create their own little world.
I was often accused of daydreaming and not paying attention (okay, so I wasn't paying attention) and I longed for the day when I could be a grown up and spend my days writing and let my characters tell their stories. Sadly, I then grew up and realized life isn't that easy.
With the birth of the previously mentioned beautiful little boy my writing got pushed to the side as reality of life as a working mother hit. Now I am learning to write from a new prospective, taking courses to hone the skills of the craft I love. And even as my children grow and learn every day, hopefully so do I. So that we can be proud of each other.