saying something like, “She was a little late, but isn’t she beautiful?”, and I remember how my student wrote a research paper on epidurals and I wonder if she got one, I feel like a proud mom. I really like that feeling. It makes me feel somewhat meaningful.
Speaking of which. When I was visiting home last week, my mom asked all of us what we want. “What do you want?” Some of us said “a fulfilling job.” “A healthy, happy relationship.” Ryan said, “A wife who works and pays for me.” I said I wanted my husband to die and a life of meaning and purpose. (I don’t really want Ryan to die.) I do, however, want the rest. Still figuring out what that means.
It’s kind of exciting, though, don’t you think? The discovery.