When I read the subject for this week, my blood ran cold. Other talents? All I do is write. Work, and write. Okay, eat, work and write. You get the picture.
I mean, I can do stuff, but I don't know if the stuff qualifies as a 'talent'. I'm a fast reader. (Harry Potter books=3 days.) I kick butt in board games which require word skill. (Scrabble=high score, family record.) I used to be a heck of a chess player. I can crochet a chain, know all the words to several TV show theme songs, and I can change a diaper in 30 seconds (wet only, please, when going for the record.)
None of this seems much like talent to me. I can't sing, can't dance, can't play sports and can only tell a joke if you give me a minute to think about it first...none of the usual 'talent' offerings.
On the other hand, I've been married for twenty-eight years. I've raised two children to adulthood (and helped with a third and two grandchildren). They've all turned out to be great people, and none of them has been arrested for anything. (I was going to add 'yet' but I'll think positive and won't do it.) I've got some good friends that I can call on when I need them, and they can do the same for me. I've got faith, love, humor and respect in my life, so I must be doing something right.
None of that qualifies as talent, I know. But I can do stuff, even if I can't think of it to list here, and even if I ain't as good as I once was. Both my sons read the last Harry Potter book in a day, and both can now beat me at chess, and probably any other game they convince me to try. (We won't even mention video games, I haven't been a champ there since we had our Atari hooked up.) But that's okay. Parents want their children to do bigger and better things than they did, right?
Maybe that's what makes me feel good about writing. It's something I can do that not everyone does. Of course, plenty of people are much better at it than me. I can't worry about that. My writing makes me and at least a few readers happy, so I think I fill a small niche in the world that way. If I can leave that (and my speed-reading kids) when I shuffle off this mortal coil, I'll be happy.
