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.
Depression can be mind’s way of saying, ‘Hey, we’re way off track’
In other news, donations keep pouring in to feed the monkeys
Epiphany: Was it so bad that I used to work toward perfection?
Why does most love hurt us? Because one usually loves more
16-year-old charged with felony for science experiment gone bad
Thugs attacking private property aren’t anarchists; they’re vandals
We often value a love only after we’ve carelessly thrown it away