The Phoenix: Epicuriousmothering Rising

Part of being human is dealing with regret. It's like the hardest part, for me, of being human.  I hate hate hate hate hate that sick feeling of regret. The first time I remember feeling regret (though I didn't know what the word was for it then) was when I stole handfuls of pennies from my sister's (and I don't remember which one) box under her bed.  Why I was under her bed in the first place I have no idea (probably a game of hide and seek), but I found literally a treasure trove of pennies.  And pennies meant tootsie rolls (one penny) and bazooka gum (three pennies) at Benjamin Franklin.  So I reached in and grabbed out handfuls and ran to my room to hide them.  And next time we were out, I bought a whole big bag of treats.  And the next time and the next time . . . all with handfuls of stolen pennies. Then the sister (and honestly, I still can't remember) pulled out her box and began literally crying about how she had no money.  ...

John at me at a friend's 50th birthday celebration last week Watching my children fall in love has brought home to me my own fall and reminded me of the mystery of it all.  There aren't words or explanations or reasons.  It just happens for no apparent reason or maybe every apparent reason. I hated the idea of falling in love and marriage when I was sixteen.  Everywhere I looked, I saw long term love and marriage as something hard and heavy and wearying.  I had already told my mother that there was no way I was ever going to get married. It just seemed like way too much work and totally tied you down . . . not to mention children.  They were WAY too much work.  I was going to travel the world (I already had the perfect backpack and hiking shoes and clothes that were perfect for travel) after college (which I was going to finish as quick as possible).  I was going to dig wells   and teach people how to read and fill my arms with be...