The first thing I learned at J-school was probably the most fundamental thing I’ve ever learned about myself. Did I want to be a newspaper reporter, a broadcaster, a magazine writer, or an advertising exec? In choosing an emphasis, I was aware of choosing a life as much as a career. Did I want glamour? An important role in our country’s democracy? Big money?
No, apparently not.
I could hardly admit it out loud to anybody at the time, but the decision came down to answering one question: Which kind of journalism would give me holidays off?
Ambitious as I was, I recognized something essential about my nature. I didn’t want to forsake the time to pause, to celebrate and to be with people I loved. So I became a magazine writer.
Since then, my notion of a holiday has changed. Especially with the coming of my daughters, I was aware of the holiness in each day. And I have become whatever kind of writer is necessary to pausing, celebrating, and being with my beloveds as much as possible.
Any given day, this means something different.
Today it meant pausing to anticipate yet another storm, celebrating the snowfall by baking cupcakes, then watching my daughters lick pink frosting off their fingertips.