The Ex changed the brakes on the Jag last time they were done.  As I sit at the brake shop we used for the other cars, I cannot help but be taken back to memories of when I lived in this part of the city.  When I called this place “home”, I was going to build a family, a future here.  As I think about the day he worked on the brakes, I wonder if I supported him in his effort.  Did I offer to help?  Did I offer to prepare a meal?  Alternatively, did I neglect him?  I do not revisit that part of my life in lament anymore.  I do it out of curiosity out of self-analysis.  Was I the good person I claimed and believed I was?  

As I get older I am not only all right with the fact, but actually feel blessed I did not have children.  I watch the world struggle, and I am ok that I did not procreate, and that my form of creativity was not a human one.  I am glad that I was given wordsmith as my creative force.  I can create all the “children” I want.  I can give them all the personality, knowledge, and worldview I would have given my human children.  I am blessed in my creative nature.