What can you do when real life takes over?

I fought it for months, trying to steal a few hours here and there--six a.m. till I went to work at seven thirty. Taking care of an ailing family member and trying to work a full time job leaves little, if any, time to write. But when you do, when you steal those precious minutes, it feels like taking a mud bath, or having a massage and then an aromatherapy session. You feel guilty, selfish and utterly damned. 

How can you keep the juices flowing when you're changing Depends? Just keep your mind on the emotional thread of any story idea that floats by. Snag it. Write it on a napkin or call yourself and leave a message. 

Mom was still sleeping  this morning and I forgot my laptop. So I opened "The Sweater Box," a box I remember from my childhood that held the oldest memorabilia of my Mom's family.  Inside, I found my great-grandfather's Bible from 1882 inscribed to "Master Willie Hunt". And tucked inside, letters he'd written his future bride whilst in the National Guard (maybe they called it something else then.) He was policing riots that seemed to be happening in Chicago, and thinking every moment of Etta and the coming Fall when their life would start. He signed it, "Your true lover, Wilson."

"The Sweater Box."  Nice title. . .