Change is inevitable.
I have always known myself to be a reader. A lover of books. Bookstores? Yes, please take me there. Libraries? I am awed and humbled when I enter one, just as one might be when visiting an old historic church. My mother, also a book lover and lifelong reader, regularly took us as children to the local library where we would check out large stacks of books. It’s where I fell in love with Judy Blume, Nancy Drew, and The Babysitter’s Club.
Just a few years ago, it dawned on me that I had not picked up a book in ages. What had happened to the little girl who loved to read?
Change.
When that same little girl hit her teen years, other interests, horseback riding for one, had taken over. Sure I sort of read those books that were required reading over the summer for English class. I even remember enjoying a few. Fast forward to my 20’s and early 30’s, a mom raising two young children. I picked up reading once again. That fiery passion was reignited. I read for my own pleasure. I read to my children. I, along with wonderful teachers and their grandmothers, taught them to read. I took them to story time every week at the library where they checked out large stacks of books. We made some great friends. We began a book collection. This continued for many years and I enjoyed watching my children become lovers of books.
Then change showed up once again.
My children entered the world of middle and high school. And except for those required summer reads, I watched their book interest dwindle. They became involved in sports. I became involved in sports. I went to all their games. I was the busy mom juggling work, school, and teenagers. I didn’t pick up very many books.
Then one day, in my early 40’s, that old familiar spark was lit. First it was small, just a brief flicker of light. My New Year’s resolution: I challenged myself to read one book a month for the entire year. I completed nine books. And the spark grew into flames. The next year I challenged myself again. I read 12 books. And soon enough the fire was blazing out of control. I’ve lost count. My TBR stack is growing larger than the stack of books already completed.
I’m a member of a book club. I started an Instagram account to post book reviews and meet other book lovers. I research book stores in the areas I’m planning to go on vacation so I can visit them, then I follow them on Instagram. I’ve begun reading advanced copies of books that haven’t yet been published.
And recently, while enjoying my renewed love of reading, I remembered how that little girl once thought it would be so cool to become an author. To write her very own book. Stories had never just been something I consumed. They were something I had longed to create.
Can you guess what happened next? This mid-40s woman decided to become an author. I started a website to share my writing. Whiskers of My Soul is a product of this little dream from many years ago. There’s a novel in the works; or at least a project I hope will grow into one. I’ve never been so passionate as I am about the person I’m becoming today. I’m meeting authors through Instagram and I’m fascinated by them. I don’t really feel like I’m one of them yet. But I want to be. I entered a two-week writing challenge. I joined a writer’s group. I’m slowly finding my footing and it is exhilarating! The fire has engulfed me completely. It’s the most amazing feeling and I’m just getting started!
So. Back to change.
My life is a product of change. I have worn many hats in my life. While always a reader, I’ve also been a Daughter, Student, Wife, Mother, Teacher Assistant, Runner, Adult Student, Physical Therapist Assistant, Empty Nester, to name a few. And now, Writer. Throughout the years when changing one hat for another, I am sometimes apprehensive. I am sometimes afraid, sometimes excited.
But.
Change is inevitable.
And.
Change is beautiful.
The little girl who once dreamed of writing has grown into a woman who is finally daring to try. Change brought me here and I can’t wait to see where it takes me next.
Stick around if you’d like.