Yesterday evening, after dashing about rain drops and hopping over puddles I found myself safe withing the confines of the car. I wiped big beading raindrops from my black suit pants onto the rubber mats of the car, and began to wonder. Why is it that we dream of this glamorous grown-up life, full of business-casual, and pearl earrings, and electronic devices with which we can check our email, look up the word "careful" in Spanish, while simultaneously talking to someone four states away about a project that is bigger than us both? Why, I wondered, do we rush rush rush to this point in our lives, only to get here in all our high-heeled glory, only to find ourselves hoping we didn't miss significant steps in our childhood?
I replayed the day in my head on my way to my next destination: a room full of 150 or so grown-up women, all gathered together sitting shoulder to shoulder to listen to a real grown-up woman, tell us that we're going to make it, and questioned whether or not I believed her.
No comments:
Post a Comment