I can’t seem to escape children lately. It’s not that I’m trying to avoid them, but I seem to see them everywhere I go — happy children and proud parents full of love for those kids.
I don’t have any children yet, but I really want them. Given the circumstances of my life, I might never have any. I’m told that having the right woman agree to be the mother of your children is one of the prerequisites — and that part is beyond my control.
The closest things I’ve had to kids have been my nieces, Katherine and Anna, and my animals, too numerous to mention by name. (The picture above is about four years old. Anna’s the one on the left with the huge grin. The picture below is Anna with me at the Birmingham Zoo.) They live three hours from me, so I don’t see them as often as I’d like, but I love them very much and I’m proud of them. They’re wonderful girls.
Still, I’d like to have my own family. I bring this up partly because the subject of children and family keeps coming up in my life lately, but also because I was thinking about something related to it over the weekend.
Anatomy of a lie: Why destroy credibility by exaggerating facts?
Despite death, finally finding love made life worth it for new widow
Irony abounds when reader proves my point by trying to refute it
Missing childhood connections leave us longing for missing love
Cancer unexpectedly took Lucy before old age could finish her
What really matters in life? Hardly any of the things we worry about
They’re just images of past love, but I can’t make them go away