At thirty-eight, I am single and childless, not by choice, but by instinct. The fourteen-year-old in me would consider this condition a point of shame and frantically try to root it out. I am not who I thought I would be, but that is what happens when you look ahead. All you see are the possibilities for change. When you look back, you see what you’ve held on to, what was stronger than outside influence, what you carried with you all these years. Maybe it’s something you need.
