The other day, M was sitting next to me on the couch. My laptop was on my lap and she asked to read my blog. I hesitated a bit - there's some stuff on here I don't think a 10 year old needs to see. But since I wrote the recent post, Being the Different Flower about her, I thought she should be able to see it. She read it, looked at me with teary eyes, announced she was going to cry and reread it. As the tears flowed down her cheeks, I asked why she was crying. Because that was beautiful, she said. You can write.
Huh. I hadn't thought about that. I told her dad that I let her read it. He asked if I told her I was a writer. No, that never occurred to me. Ever.
But since those conversations, I've been thinking. I've been a mom and an interpreter for so long, that's become my identity. I hadn't thought of being anything else.
But I am.
I am a writer. Just saying that is kind of exciting. I'm also a photographer. I just never show folks my stuff. Hell, I had this blog for two years before telling anyone I had it. Now I put it out there for folks to see. That's scary! I posted some of my pics on Red Bubble but didn't tell anyone.
Okay, so let's see. I'm a mom, an interpreter, a writer and a photographer. I'm also a business owner. That's a good one. I like it though most of the time I feel like I'm flying by the seat of my pants. Still, I'm having success so that's good.
I feel new. Reinvented - which is completely silly since nothing really changed from last week to this week. Now I need a new hair do to go with my new attitude.