This Is How The Story Ends

“Uh oh”. You’re thinking: I just wanted to read something inspiring or maybe even a little edgy. Don’t worry. This is not a morbid blog. I promise. I’m a children’s book author. This can’t be dark. Lord knows we have enough of that in the world right now. Ok, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Maybe it starts with losing a pet, or a loved one. Or maybe it’s a close friend that tells them about death. Maybe it happens from watching a Disney Movie. Hey, I’m still mourning the loss of Bambi’s mom. But however they learn, children understand the basic wisdom that this moment, right now, is all we really have. This business of doing something with their lives is abstract and blurry at best. Case in point, when I was five years old, I told everyone I was going to grow up and be an acrobat, well that, or a super star married to Michael Jackson. Looking back, ahem, I’d go with the acrobat dream now. Although, admittedly I have a hard enough time getting from my bed to the kitchen so launching myself through the air in front of thousands of people would be classified as a nightmare. But I digress.

We spend so much time consumed with becoming. Well that, and fighting for versions of ourselves that feel acceptable. We measure this by societal acceptance. By our pay checks. By how many friends we have on social media or clutch the pearls, in real life. And yet the truth is…