How Did I Become a Freelance Writer

It was October 30,2007 when everything changed in my life. My grandfather's demise brought me into certain realizations and opened my eyes.
Before, I was content into writing pieces about my childhood, friendships and relationships with people who matter to me the most. But slowly,
I began writing of different topics and feature stories mostly for friends and loved ones.

At age 9, I discovered how I loved poetry. I can still remember that very moment when I sat on the front yard with my paper and pencil and jotted down
my first words as a poet. I was so happy thinking of it brings me memories...happy memories. Have you ever tried doing something that brought you
so much pride, you can't simply forget it? That's how it's been for me. My first triumphant moment...seemingly.

From then on, I made myself believe that I could write and become a writer. That I could change myself and progress along with my words.
Little did I know that my life and the people around me will make it somehow different. As expected, I put my calling on hold and built my dreams
around my family's, specifically my mother's. I never really blamed her for I know that she felt her choices should be mine. I know that a mother has a
secret wish for their children and sometimes, they never realized how they gradually affect decisions on their behalf. In short, I was made to study
Business in college, finished it dutifully like any obedient daughter and lived her dreams. That I guess was one of the most ironic points in my life.
To live a dream that you know will make someone...and to let go of yours and break you somehow.

Writing has not become an interest but a hidden feeling of want. I crave for each moment, wanting to let others know that I can write. I remember
during my younger years how I wrote and hid my pieces for I never felt that anyone in my family would understand. Others thought I have a gift that
I must share and learn to impart. That God had allowed me to become a master of my own feelings and express them through this wordy realm of
art. For years, I was like a bird hovering beyond spaces, finding myself in the midst of the clouds, that whenever I write I feel how my emotions
give me the means to put into paper my inner self and conscious wiles.

That night, after losing my grandfather, I realized how short life is. That it is indeed a waste to not try and give myself the chance. At 30, I felt it was
really too late but most importantly, I felt that if I'd never really tried, I would be a bird gone and wasted. A month later, I saw myself applying for part-
time jobs and fortunately I got accepted. My husband saw me as a different person then. He relates how happy I am every time he sees me writing.
That to me, it was not really a job but a commitment. Something that will develop and enrich my life experience and it did. That's how it started for me..
I being a freelance writer. I am living a dream that once felt a little delayed but you know what? It's been all worth it.

A few days from now, I'll be visiting my Grandfather's grave. We will be celebrating his birthday. Come to think of it, it seems that both of us will be rejoicing
not for the loss but for the good beginnings.