I believe in fusion. I believe my task in life is to become, to create, and to leave. In three and a half years in my early twenties, I gave birth to a daughter, who taught me union, a son, who taught me contention, and identical twins, who taught me reflection. Circumstance (read: serendipity) made me a mother, a lawyer, a bookseller, and a piece of dust. The best of me is skinless, like Emily Dickinson; integral, like Stephen Jay Gould, and ripe and rotten, like Shakespeare. I believe that at our finest, we humans give up our boundaries only to reassemble a larger, more profound security by transforming ourselves. Laughter, gardening, arguing, and living are acts of combination that expand my universe and still reduce it to a singular dynamic core. Child-rearing involves self-rearing: we nurture, debate, indulge, despair, return. As a mother, I wanted to cook the perfect meal at night and contribute color, taste, and scent, for my children’s lives and their dreams. As a result of my children and my other imperfect creations, I see my own world as a Venn diagram, consisting of intersections and unions, and disparate, charged spaces filled with points of unmitigated connection.
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