Trace

Nadie*, my new gf at work, is determined to have a baby by age 3o. She turned 24 in March.

She's passionate with her dream. I remember what that was like.

In my twenties i thought lots of things would happen by age 30. Milestones are bullshit. Just another number. But we all get to be in delusional bliss once. Life is fair that way.

"I hope i'll get to see it," I mused.

"Of course you will!" Cried Nadie. "It's only six years away!"

"If i live that long," i said.

Nadie laughed. Incomprehensible, i'm sure.

"How about you?" Asked an earnest Nadie.

I shrugged, "I'm probably too old... And it's probably not for me."

She did not compute.

"It's not for everyone, you know," i added.

Not, for instance, for someone living in poverty. And not merely in the monetary sense.

Wanting to leave a piece of oneself behind is such a case of narcissism. I'm so frigging awesome! I must not leave this world without some remnant of me continuing on!

When i go i want to be gone. Passing on these genes would be cruel and unusual punishment.


*not her real name