Another few minutes, or Why I keep doing this
There’s plenty of reasons to quit messing around with this writing dream I have, and several of them actually make very good sense, but even a few minutes a day playing with words gives me a grounding and a satisfaction that’s hard to properly express. Even when the minutes are barely a handful and the words are frustrating and slow to come and often wrong.
Even then, it’s worth it.
Granted, I don’t always recognize this, but I usually do, and even if I don’t, it’s still true.
For all the greatness that this is, though, without my wife, none of it would be possible. Period.