My Mission?

I have always loved to write. For no one in particular, just me. Having the freedom to put my thoughts to paper has always felt so gratifying. It's like emptying out an old dresser or finally cleaning out the glove compartment, it just helps. I work as a small town librarian surrounded by the same people everyday. I must be a yokel at heart, because I love it. I love the sounds and the smells. I love the same old boring routine everyday. I never want to be a Carrie Bradshaw or a Miranda Priestly, just an Anne Shirley (minus the whole orphan thing). I am getting off topic. Anyways, I was working one afternoon sorting through parenting books when a bundle of handwritten notes fell out of one of them. I knelt down and pick them up. In bright pink writing, there were letters written by a young mother to her unborn daughter. I thought to myself, "Writing to your unborn child, really?" And then it happened. I had a flash forward image of this poor woman pouring her heart out to a kid who very well might grow up to be an ungratefully little brat. I thought "What's the point?" God certainly has an interesting sense of humour because 2 weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. Being the only pregnant librarian in my town is quite unusual. As you may have guessed, all my coworkers are woman and the majority are over the age of 50. I feel most of the time that I am getting advice from 12 different versions of my mom. I think that's another reason why I love my job so much, it's like a family.  Off topic again. I guess you could say this woman and her letters inspired me to do the same. Not write love letters to my little androgynous baby or anything like that, just write. So that's my mission.