So here we are-past forty, approaching forty-and I’m on the floor with a blow up bed, alone for a change. So here we are in a house in the northeast, and we are one to a sleeping spot. So here we are, reality check, our successes are multitude. But we are chased by debt and desire and what we prepared for life to be. One of us has the child we all desired. One of us has the book we all desired. One of us has the tenure track position we all desired. All of us are tired, underpaid, unsure of our future. Three of us have the advantage of citizenship. One of us is doing what she swore she’d never do-applying for jobs in a place she cannot drive because there she will be guaranteed healthcare. We are all smaller than the people we wanted to be. There are more of us far-flung and close to our meeting spot. But we are smaller than we meant to be-unless you hear our students. A bit of each of us has made the young people, the millennials who will rise from the ashes. None of us wants to be the ashes.
It’s this that finally forces me off the dining room floor.
“I didn’t meet a Mormon until college.”
“It was grad school for me.”