I’m not an envious person. I don’t pine for others’ bigger homes, fatter bank accounts, or personal beauty. I don’t even envy other writer’s book deals, or the success they’ve had selling their books. I figure the world is mine to win. If I want something, I just have to work hard to get it.
There is one little thing, however, that I envy in certain others, that is the extra time that they might possess.
An acquaintance once told me that her in-laws had come to town to take care of her kids for three months so that she could get her second novel in shape for her agent. “Three months,” I said with a pang of envy. “Wow!”
Imagine having someone else packing the kids’ school lunches and doing the laundry while you sit cloistered in your home office writing. Imagine these angels buying ingredients for dinner, making dinner, and cleaning up, while you enjoy dinner and leisure time with your family afterwards. With no dishes to clean, no floor to sweep, no lunches to prepare, there would be a lot more time to play with the kids.
Let’s get this straight. I can’t imagine life without children, mine in particular. But come on! To have a little reprieve from the labor part in order to write, while the kids are happily enjoying their grandparents? If only. Do you hear that, mother? If only.
I’m happy my writer friend received such a valuable gift. Maybe if I start making money from my writing I can get some help somewhere. Help that would save me an hour and a half a day. Time that is not taken from children, my husband, or my work.
Having time is a precious gift, one I certainly envy in those who have more if it than I do.