Oh to be young, sights many a person watching the dirt stained child frolic on wet, grass or splash through muddy puddles. Indeed, to be young is a great experience. The greatest asset of youth is perhaps a glorious sense of freedom from the heavy responsibilities of life. The vision of youth is fresh. It is difficult to recapture at a later age that innocent curiosity about everything that marks the days of youth. If the joys of life have rare intensity in youth, the sorrows appear intense. The delight of licking ice cream is matched at the other end of the spectrum by the disgust of having to eat spinach under the watchful eyes of mother. The process of growing up is a painful as it is joyful. From the vantage point of maturity, you regret the fading away of innocent joys and intensity and
excitement of experience.
I write a lot, which keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. There is always something to write about, always a new story to craft. Not writing, for me, is like trying to hold back a sneeze. Learning to write was the most powerful influence in my life. I can still remember the awe I felt when I realized I could put real words onto paper and tell out a story. From that first ‘a-ha’ moment I knew I wanted to write.
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