Born to Write… or Just a Baby Who Liked Crackers?

I wake up between 3 and 5 AM every morning.

No alarm.

No reason.

Just wide awake.

Today, I finally remembered why.

When I was a baby, my grandmother, a published writer, lived with us.

Every morning, in the wee hours before sunrise, she’d get up, sit down to write, and plop me on the floor with a handful of crackers.

And there I’d sit.

Probably chewing loudly.

Watching her pour words onto the page.

Guess what? I didn’t start writing until I turned 64.

That’s right. 64 years later, I finally picked up the pen.

Maybe I was a writer in the making from the very beginning.

Maybe the love of words sank in before I could even walk.

Or maybe… I just really liked crackers.

Either way, here’s what I know: It’s never too late to start.

Got a dream? A calling? A thing that won’t let you go? Go do it!

Doesn’t matter if you’re 24 or 74. If it’s in you, it’s meant to come out.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have words to write - and maybe a few crackers to snack on 😋