Content.

Wow, where did the time go?
Every day is just passing so quickly now, I can hardly keep up.
I've got customs to work on, graduations and baby showers to go to.
Then I get the quiet moments like this, when Ethan is in bed and Mark is craftin' away in the dining room.

For the last couple of years I have had a bit of a writer's block.
I realized the other day that I am (was?) very much an emotional writer.
Words just flowed out of me when I was sad, or pissed off, or jealous.
I could drop a poem in ten seconds flat when I was so elated, so enamored.
It's now, when I am satisfied just... being, that it is harder to write.
Being content does not make for very provocative writing.

My mind used to always be somewhere else. It was either dwelling in the past, longing for something I hoped to attain in the future, or sticking my nose in other people's business.
Now I look to the future with excitement. Ethan matures every day in front of me and I wonder what kind of person he will be.
Will he be tolerant? Will he be loving? Will he be intellectual? Will he be really good at soccer?
I'm so excited and privileged to watch him grow up.
So I don't care any more if I don't write whimsical poems and political snark. None of it matters as much to me. If I dwell on things like that too long I get too fired up and it leads me nowhere.

I am totally content with being content.