Different

I often feel the urge to write, but today the words don't flow like they did a few years back. I know in time the words will return, but today...

My days blur together. I arrive at the daycare early and stay til supper time. I hug as many little people as ask, and a few that don't, cook the food, and keep the kitchen clean. It's a decent job. It earns me enough money to get by, provides me with much needed love and affection, and keeps me busy doing something worthwhile.  I like it. Perhaps I even love it, but I still find myself longing for a week to wander the countryside with my camera, to sit on the floor with my grandchildren, or to eat a leisurely lunch with a friend. It's a different life than what I had four years ago, different from what I expected life would bring. And it's okay.

I'm making a difference. Perhaps there are those who wouldn't think so, but to a small child away from his or her mother for hours on end, I am making a difference. When a little one reaches for me or crawls into my lap, I am blessed with the privilege of wrapping him in my arms and rendering comfort. I am not mommy and I cannot take her place, but I can offer love, security, and friendship and I think that is pretty important, even if  one little girl did tell me, "We hate goulash." ha ha!