All around me are familiar faces, worn out places...

Okay. So here's what happened: we had a boy and named him Robby. So far, he's been pretty cool. He cried a lot when he tried to sleep for about 6 months, we "trained" him, then he got better. And then we got better. He started sleeping more and so did we. This taught me one thing: parents are as crazy as their child's sleep schedule. The first few months were a blur.

But now he's an amazing kid, which is exactly what a parent should say. So how to quantify that? He's pretty much the only thing in this world I would willingly die for. Does that make him or me unique? No.

So I graduated with a degree in nursing and got a job. And somehow, now, it feels insignificant. I know that for the rest of my life I will be a nurse, but it just doesn't seem as important as being a parent. And if I had read or heard those words before I had a kid, it wouldn't have made sense, because the measurement of how good a parent one is seems to be how good one's child is, which I know isn't fair, but how else to determine it? Results are results. Despite that, I think it's safe to say it's impossible to be the best parent ever. Even good parents have crappy kids. And all of this logic might lead one to follow the writer of Ecclesiastes who said, "Everything is meaningless..." Which it might be. One of the major problems about believing in nothing is that you'll fall for nothing.

I know this is getting a bit loquacious, but my point is this: even if everything is meaningless in some cosmic sense, it matters to me now. And that is what matters. And I think that if everyone could have that mindset, and respect that everyone else has that mindset, things would be better.

Enclosed please find a picture of my sister and her husband.