Friday, August 24, 2012

Real Life

The author dreaming up a story a few years ago...
Sometimes when you read a book, you get so involved in the story and the characters portrayed, you forget that there was a real person with a whole different life who wrote the story. It is living a real life with all its hiccups that creates compassion, understanding, sympathy, perceptiveness and insight in a writer. Without some sort of experience, it is very hard to write in a way that others will be able to relate to. 
 
I remember trying to write a love story when I was about twelve and I gave up in frustration when I realized that I wasn't wise enough in the subject to write about it. Well, can I say it has been a few years since then? Life has confronted me in so many levels and in ways that I never planned.

Today, my youngest daughter is packing up for college. We take her in the morning to  a campus within an easy drive of home, but the poignancy is still there. When I was young, I only focused on finding a great guy to love and share a life with, then having kids - but never on packing them up to leave home. Don't get me wrong - I am very happy for each of my kids (all four in college now!) and the choices they make; moving out of home is such an exciting and wonderful time for them. But from my perspective, it means that my involvement with them is reduced to when they need me.
 
So, as I continue on this journey of life, I realize just how little I really know and how much I still need to learn.Onward....