I constantly feel as though there are parts of me that have been lost. Important parts. I suppose that’s “growing up” and why so many people hesitate to do it.
Only through parenthood do I, for fleeting moments, find them again, in a whirl of rainbows and fireflies, sunlight and rainstorms.
Then, I lose them again for the workday and for the flow of “regular life.”
I suppose that’s the human experience. Just having a moment here thinking that there’s some kind of manufacturing defect in the human experience. It’s a subtle one; they won’t be issuing you a refund, because it can’t be seen directly upon inspection. You only get glimpses.
But I swear it’s there.