A candle burning…

My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends – it gives a lovely light! Edna St. Vincent Millay

I think we’ve all stared out that same window of thought, wondering how differently our lives might have turned out IF…we were good, really good, at something in particular. It kind of boils down to that “hindsight being 20/20” thing. If we feel stuck, almost weighed-down in a situation, we mentally re-trace the paths our lives have taken and visualize ourselves on some other stage of current reality.

Most of us have learned to adapt, make necessary changes, too often doing nothing more than coasting through each day. We feel we can do most things efficiently but there’s that fine line between the mundane, often repetitious, dynamics involved.

Where I’m concerned, I burn that proverbial candle at both ends, occasionally starting in the middle which, if that makes sense which, to you, probably sounds like some kind of manic behavior. Whatever. I’m driven by constantly attempting to do my best, standing on some shaky platform while furiously digging in my heels. The sad part is, there’s little satisfaction of feeling that a job has been well done and the parade of “Ifs'” start rolling through my mind.

Those wishes about doing greater things? We all have them, of that, there’s little denial. Many…are job-related. Had we followed a different course of study, the chance of employment in a different and better field might find us in a happier zone of existence. Yes, we’re good at what we do but…we watch people in other professions with a fair amount of envy and think how well we might have done had we taken that chance and explored more options.

Certainly, I could have easily shared wishes about being a physician, politician, sports figure and more, but, I grew up in a time where women were pretty much herded into some secretarial pool or worked as bank tellers, clerical workers, sales clerks and, of course, teachers. Most threw on an apron and became housewives and mothers. Our education, for the most part, was geared towards each one of these professions and dreams of anything more were, at best, private, often emotional, experiences.

I’ll admit to doing a lot of self-examination while writing this piece; what if…I had become anything but what has taken me to where I am now? Does wishing I had the ability to handle just what I do on a daily basis, more efficiently, impact the quality of the work I’m involved in? When others tell me that I’ve “missed the boat” after a project is completed really mean I’ve wasted the chances I’ve been given?

Perhaps, no to all. However, that big “yes” continues to haunt me as the years pass quickly and opportunities wane. My dreams and wishes that once were…leave a fading light as the candle slowly burns.

From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop...Write about something you wish you were good at.


Dream on…



The old dreams were good dreams; they didn’t work out, but I’m glad I had them.

And, in the middle of each vision that came my way, disappointment hid in the background. 

I’m guessing there was, and still is, a lesson to be learned, even some type of discovery. 

That…has always left me second-guessing. 

You know, was there some better way to handle a situation which I managed to keep overlooking or did predestination maintain rule over every stumbling step I attempted to make?

Yet, I held every idea close. 

My hope was that, somehow, and in some way, a realization of what I mentally cherished might magically blossom. 

That optimistic, and elusive, state of mind gave me reason for that word hope which encompasses a wish or a desire.

Just plain wanting something, anything, positive to happen.  One must have hope, right?  And with that bit of cockeyed optimism, one must dream.

Yes, yes, the old dreams were good dreams; they didn’t work out but I’m glad I had them.


workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop….Two prompts in one:  Write a blog post in exactly 12 lines and…Write a post that begins and ends with the same sentence.


Time traveler…



As a child, I couldn’t wait for time to pass.  What kid doesn’t?  In fact, I often prayed that it would just skip or run along at a maddening pace and move me to a better place.  But, almost like a punishment, it moved even slower and at times it felt as if it was moving in reverse.  All I could do was imagine what the future might be like if, and when, I arrived at my long-visualized moment in time.

I know, I know, be careful what you wish for.  I hear you Aesop, loud and clear.  Wishes are all a child might have on the twisted road leading to adulthood.  And childhood dreams are a pathway, even a needed escape.

Suddenly, you find yourself right here only now you look back and wish all that time was still in front of you.  The chance of any moments standing still, even lingering like a lazy summer afternoon, have become one more forgotten dream.


workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop… Write a blog post in exactly 10 lines.