Few years back, at one of my writing retreats, a participant gave me a story.

“It isn't very good “she said quickly. “I haven't written in forty years.”

Forty years. I looked at her. Wondered what had happened in those decades. Not because she hadn't written, but because she had stopped believing she could write. Life had happened, of course.

Marriage. Kids. School runs. Ageing parents. Deadlines. Responsibilities. The small acts of care that hold families together. As I listened to her, I thought about all the things we give up.

The girl who wanted to write stories.

The young man who dreamed of opening a café.

The woman who wanted to start a business.

The........

© The Pioneer