One of the things that terrifies me most about writing is that someone always seems to say what I want to say, only they said it first and much more articulately.

And then there are days that I thank God for the internet, because I can find people that write things that I've always wanted to say, but either never got around to actually writing it, or never had the guts to put it on paper (or screen).

In celebration of both of these things, I found this while not writing my paper this evening:

"I wanted to have the lovely house on the acreage, the woodshed full of firewood and the garden full of goodness out back. I wanted to have the quaint and colorful kitchen with the big heavy locally made coffee cups, the big spice rack, the pots hanging from the ceiling and the plants along with window above the sink. I wanted to look out that window and see my family’s clothes drying in the noonday sun. I wanted the big bookcase and the two reading chairs in the cozy living room. I wanted to have a house full of music, children laughing, toys to be picked up everyday and a faithful dog in front of the stone hearth. I wanted to be able to walk a steamy cup of coffee to my desk, where I’d work for bits of the day at a time. I wanted to pack the kids up and go into town or over to Gramma’s house. I wanted to lay every night beside the man I love and I wanted to wake up with his arms around me every morning. I wanted to feel safe and loved and protected and cherished. I wanted to love so fiercely and be loved back with such confidence that nothing could keep us from rocking on the porch of our house forever and ever until the end.

I wanted these things all my life. Oh, the details have changed somewhat over the years but the general life map is there. The home, the “man”, the kids. What if my time is over? What if I missed that train?

I’m so tired of wanting these things, but there’s nothing else I really want for myself. And I’m really having a hard time being thankful for what I do have." - http://blog.reddirtroad.ca/