The Gift of Time

I haven’t written in a while.  I must admit self-seeking endeavors came between me and you.  Life continues to provide me with powerful excuses to distract me from the matter at hand.

Yet it keeps gnawing at me, daily, the abyss of thoughts intertwined with feelings attempting to escape as a word canvas, wherein the artwork can be rendered.

The selfish part of me wants full attention to my words, and it is at this moment I recognize that I rarely give my full attention to any outside thing.  My art craves an outward positive glance and even a simple like.  The lesson stares me in the face, “to be liked, you must like first.”

I wrote something for you today, but the reality slapped me in the face, you are busy.  Busy like me.  You struggle to rise to daily challenges, and there is no time left for a meandering review.

Gifts exist in the name of time.  And so few of us have the luxury of having any left to give.

My post is short.  It was written just to let you know I’m still here.

-Erika K Rothwell

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