Here's what's hard about making space for the work you want to do. All the other things. The work you have to do for a paycheck. The dinners you have to cook for family. The things you're needed for in the moment, things that must be done.
Sometimes, the work I want to do, that must be done at the end of the work day, the things I love, the writing, the editing, the playing with words, the pulling out the camera and taking pictures, (so many pictures!) has to fall to the side. In favor of a bicycle ride to the creek. A trip to the movies. A conversation about superheroes. Finding laundry. Good night kisses. Tea.
I think, I'll never get to write. I'll never get to sit down. It never ends.
But that's a lie, because I will. One day, the boys won't be ten. They'll be teenagers passing through the doors. One day, my girl will be gone, off somewhere living her own life. The nights of little boys stealing time will fade away, and how sad to think of it.
So the space I have now, in between the other things, the working, the family, the living of the life, well, I carve it out, here and there, between the rest.
One day, I will be glad for the extra time, when the boys are no longer ten, and the girl has graduated high school, found her way to a path, moved past the need for this home. Sometimes, though, I think I'll stop, and sigh, and wish for ten, again, and think it'd be nice, to watch a show (maybe Doctor Who...) with the three of them, and then I'll sigh, and remember bicycle rides by the creeks and peppermint tea at night, and write.