The janitor came in our office at 6:00 to empty our trash cans and we got to talking. Eventually he asked if I was married or a mom. When I told him I was neither, he said, "Well, you probably don't want to have kids soon. Gotta get established first. Some women'd wait 5, 6, 7 years before they have kids."
On the drive home tonight, I was thinking about 5, 6, 7 years of not having kids. 60, 72, 84 months. 84 would-have-been people. 84 half people. People who will never be created. People who will never live. They were all girls. One of them had Nanny's big brown eyes. Most of them had blue. One was platinum blonde, and one was blind. One of them had eleven toes. One of them was autistic. One was a mathematical genius. One had Jennifer's nose. And voice. Most of them were small, but one grew up to be very tall. One had perfectly straight bright white teeth. A lot of them had my temper. One had mom's dimple, in the middle of her right cheek. One was painfully, heartbreakingly shy, like Grampa used to be. A few had Nanny's legs, the way they looked when she was a teenager, before all the bruises and atrophy, before she needed surgery and skin grafts on her shin. One of them needed glasses as a toddler. I hope she would've outgrown it. One was dyslexic. One wore a size 6 shoe.
And now I'm just thinking... How fortunate we all are. What are the chances, you know? And I'm thinking that I'm so glad that my sisters and I were the few who came out alive.
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