Fellow lovers of art and music and Greek mythology meandered through my mind. But, where was I? Doing what all good mothers and wives do, and loving it. But always, within me, was a yearning to be more.
I hear the phrase "carpe dium", and it reminds me to "sieze the day", but where to begin? Start another painting, write another poem, play the music that soothes me, or makes me soar?
I want to throw away the mundane, and run headfast into the surreal; sit beneath the stars and listen to the chorusus of Mendelsson; or sit in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine or cocoa, and speak of Bocaccio with a significant other.
I want to wander, arm-in-arm, with someone special among the cozy inns and bookstores, walk on cobblestone streets, and look in windows that are filled with relics from a time that I can only dream about. I want to absorb the "plaid."
I want to paint near the Acropolis; meander through the streets of Paris, watching fellow artists; and sip exotic drinks in sidewalk cafes. I long to drag my fingers in the sand near the Coloseum and imagine Homer and Odysseus.
Oh, yes. I am "mom", and I am "gramma", and I love it, but on occasion, I drift off to that place that is mine....
