Time

Time.

My old friend. 

Time. 

My muse. 

Time. 

My enemy.

I often pray that I can stop time.  My daughter is about to enter middle school.  My baby has somehow turned three.  I want to hit "Pause" right this instant.

I often dream that I am forward in time.  My book is published.  I'm holding readings and signings.  I'm travelling, promoting this book that I love, that I fully believe in.  I'm ready.

I often feel that there's never enough time.  I'm grading papers as new papers come in to me.  I look at the stack, yet I long to write.  I long to escape back into the fictional world I've created.  But there's no time for that right now.

I often feel that time passes so slowly.  Some mornings I awake and immediately think ahead to the moment I climb back into bed, the covers pulled up and over my head, darkness in my personal cave.

Time. 

My love. 

Time. 

My reality. 

Time. 

My dreamer.