Instant gratification is what, I think, we all crave most of the time, and it’s what we rarely ever get. We see the commercials for Publishers Clearing House on TV of the lucky winners, who get that $1 Million Check, but few of us actually know anyone who’s won something like that, let alone won it ourselves.

It’s nice to dream, though, of the new houses and cars and boats we’d all buy if we did. A make a regular habit of picking out the place I’d get for the next drawing, “just in case.”

More often than not, though, we are left with time. An abundance of time. No matter what our goals, dreams, or aspirations, it takes time.

It takes time to become a writer, and even more time to become a successful one. Often times, those writers never find their readership at all.

We’re too often left with regrets, with fear, with a bookshelf full of unsold copies of what we thought would be the next number one on the best seller list.

Time, though, has a funny way of pacifying us, too. It can take the sting out of it, if we let it.

In the end, no matter what happens, it’s all about time, wouldn’t you say?

(I wrote 1075 and edited 3021 words today)