Lying in bed this first of summery Monday mornings, I realized that I miss writing.

I miss making it my job. I miss getting paid for doing what I love.

The sun had not yet risen, but the slice of sky I could see through the slats of my blinds was a bright gray. Birds were singing. An engine came to life in the parking lot below.

It was 5:45.

I hadn't awakened, much less gotten up, at this hour in a very long time. What had prompted my feet to hit the floor then was excitement, a love of the coming day, the idea of getting into the office early, well before anyone else. That gave me two hours to write, completely alone. Usually a column, but sometimes an article.

The first one in after me was always Brad. "Hey, Janie," he'd say cheerfully as he headed toward his dark room.

Brad was quiet and not disruptive. We shared the early morning hours in peaceful, respective silence.

I loved those hours when my head was clear, uncluttered by the details and noise of the coming day. When the writing flowed easily, and the words passed from brain to keyboard with little thought, so natural was the process.

Today was the first time in years I have thought of writing this way again. Today is the first time I've missed it. It feels like re-introducing myself to an old friend.

I think of how I very nearly cringe when people ask me what I do for a living, Reluctantly, I say, "I sell insurance." There is not any pride in this statement and the person who is inquiring always picks up on it, and looks, as I think they should, vaguely disappointed in the answer.

This job was my soft place to land, my desperately needed parachute from the smoking airplane that was the Gazette.

Selling insurance has been a needed break. But it has not been following my bliss.

What will I do about this revelation? Nothing. For now. It could be something as simple as taking this blog to the next level. Who knows.

We are all beyond the age where we can leave a job just because we realize it's a poor fit.

But almost every grand change in life starts with a seed of recognition such as this one. For now, that's enough.