Purpose? My purpose?
I never bothered with that question until recently.
You see, middle age has settled in my bones and in my psyche.
Frequently, I feel as untethered as a ship at sea.
I have found myself to be of real value to a very few people.
The good news is they are the only people I find that really matter.
My wonderful, amazing, awe-inspiring children.
And lest I forget, I am a meaningful part of their grown-up worlds.
My children know my most grievous mistakes and yet they honor me.
My children know my weakest areas and yet they fortify and lift me.
My children know my horrific lapses in judgment and yet don't judge.
My children know my most glaring flaws and see right past them.
I am frightened and inspired by the fact that my children find my advice sound and my experience worth consideration.
Some days, when I am feeling completely purposeless, they are the only things keeping me tethered to this world.
At times I regret things I have (or haven't) done, but that is fruitless and dangerous thinking.
Regrets I may have, but serendipity intervened, allowing my children to blossom in the face of hardship and sometimes adversity.
So I am humbled, that as my children mature into full-fledged, they are independent, free-thinking, delightful human beings.
I question my purpose no longer.
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