This Won't End Well

by Camille Pagán

I’m also sorry we fought about having children last week. I thought we were on the same page about the world’s overpopulation problem and the inherent risks of creating small humans who share at least some of my parents’ genetic material.

“Maybe,” I said, because I felt uncomfortable pointing out to a childless widow that putting others’ needs first is often the byproduct of having loved ones. What’s the alternative—become a recluse? Truth be told, that’s starting to sound more and more appealing. Forget new people. Maybe I should just avoid people, period.

As it happens, most great minds think independently, and die long before the rest of the world comes around to their brilliance.

“Um, okay,” I said, mortified that my private thoughts were leaking into public places.

“People make mistakes. Sometimes you just need to stay hopeful and give it time.” He said something in Arabic, then added in English, “My mother always says that. It means, ‘What is coming is better than what has gone.’”

But why would I let someone else’s fear dictate what I do with my life?”

I’m not sure if there’s a God. I hope so. But I have a hard time with the concept of organized religion.” “Interesting. Why?” “War, for starters. Religion is used to justify violence.” “And the oppression of marginalized groups,” I added. “Yep. Lots of good people, but still way too many hypocrites.” “So many hypocrites.”