Passion

Passion is a word that keeps creeping up in my mind these days.  I remember passion.  It was a long time ago, but, I do remember it.  When I was 22, living in New York, bartending, paying my dues, struggling, wondering how I was going to make rent, I was passionate.  I would wake from a dream, slowly open my eyes and realize I was living my dream.  I would then leap out of bed and start my beautiful day with passion.  Now, in my 40's, with kids, I think of passion as a 30 minute escape with Jeff in bed, a lock on the door.  But, here's the thing...it's not about sex...it shouldn't be.  Passion is something that I am trying to put into the cheeseburgers I make, the floor that I mop.  I so want to be passionate about those things.  I want to wake with that 20 year old smile on my face, leaping out of bed, readying myself for another fun filled day.  Who am I not to be passionate about my life?  The Koran and The Talmud say that we are accountable for all the gifts that life gives us and that we refuse.  What a great thing.   Doesn't it make you think?  It's like a present that someone bought for you, a picture that your child has drawn, a compliment that a stranger gives you while in line at the grocery, and you don't take it.  Every day should be filled with passion.  I'm asking a lot, but, I have always been one to dream big.  Today, I will pack my boy's suitcase, drive with Jeff to take them to the ranch, kiss my old, Old English Sheepdog, look forward to having alone time, water my plants, return phone calls, check emails, pay some bills, smoke some cigarettes, take the polish off my nails, eat a grapefruit.  And pray.  Pray that I do all those mundane things with passion.