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This thought can either inspire you to great and glorious exploits–“For tonight, we dine on asparagus souffle!”–or make you feel like those thousand loves might have been wasted… Depends on the day, I suppose!

Some days, I wake up early and have the bathroom scrubbed before I walk my son to school. I send him off with some excellent advice on life, then walk home appreciating the fresh air. I get home and sit down to write and genius flows from my finger tips. Between paragraphs, I start putting together a phenomenal dinner that not only doesn’t burn, but later on when my husband gets home, he says something like, “Son, this is why I married your mother.” In gratefulness, he loads the dishwasher.

Those are the days where the thousands of ancestors might be mildly proud and feel like their lifetimes of reproduction might not have been in vain.

Other days, I’m significantly less glorious, and the day ends with me saying, “Well, at least your dad thinks I’m pretty,” and my husband muttering, “It’s not about being pretty. Woman, I’m hungry!” Then we dine on scrambled eggs.

A thousand loves. Think about that! From the iron age, moving up through time, through discoveries, through epidemics and hard winters. From the quill and parchment up to the cell phone text. From swords to the atomic bomb. From caravans of camels up to the private jet. Your very existence is possible because of a chain of ancestors stretching back over thousands of years: people who struggled and fought, toiled, married and loved, gave birth and perhaps even died in the process of bringing your great-great-great-great grandmother into this world… Then more of them doing the same: fighting battles, waging wars, working and working to feed those growing families as they fell in love and fell into each other’s arms… culminating in your birth.

A thousand loves. The eggs you scramble might be more glorious than you think.

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