How many of us do what we love?

I do. An honest statement. I truly love radio, who I work with, being creative, and the satisfaction it brings each day. (Minus the hours.) And I love other things.

I love writing.

And somehow, five weeks of life have passed between this post and my last one, though I used to make time to write once a day. Maybe one day I will share why it seems I can’t find the time to even power on my laptop. It’s not because I lost my power cord, which eventually surfaced. I realized just how much I’ve missed putting my thoughts on ‘paper’ when I came across this poem last week. It read:

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, trying to be the best.
You only have to let your being love what it loves

And I love to write.

About observations. Life’s quirks. And kids’ innocent views of this complex world in which we live.

I love it when my son asks me if he’s allergic to his bed because he only coughs at night, or how when my youngest exits the bathroom, he’ll announce, ‘I wouldn’t go in there for five days.

Or how dressing in the dark can result in wearing two different-colored socks to work, which happened to me this morning, but so far no one’s noticed.

We all should carve out time to do what we love, whether it is ordering dessert or dancing when no one’s watching. Or even when they are.

Do what you love.