I feel like I read a different piece than everyone else? I didn't interpret any of this piece to be about regretting having kids, or anything else. And sure, t

I feel like I read a different piece than everyone else? I didn't interpret any of this piece to be about regretting having kids, or anything else. And sure, there is a sort of glorifying of Felix, but the writer is very aware of that. He points out that in his mind, Felix is forever 25. The most important part of the piece, IMO, is the end: I often think about Felix’s freedom. But my memory plays tricks on me. I never told you about it being so lonely in that apartment that I cried ...there was nobody there but me... When I think of that time, it’s a Forever Summer. I don’t remember the Winters. I bet they sucked...Cufflinks! Horse Bridles! I think the most honest thing we can do for our Felixes is to dive further into the fantasy. To flesh out the details of their life. Make them concrete. When I think about Felix’s partner or children, I can’t help but picture a life similar to my own. Because he also wanted children. He wanted a partner. He wouldn’t have stayed in that neighbourhood. And anyways, that place is not the same as it was sixteen years ago. Felix probably made choices akin to my own. Made compromises. The only alternative I can imagine to compromise, accommodation, negotiation is to never allow yourself to love. It’s 5:30am now. The sun is beginning to rise. M had gone to sleep 3 hours ago and I am all alone. Sometimes I sit there and think that I am lucky. So very very lucky. I feel it in my weaselly little bones. This piece is to me, ultimately about loving your life while acknowledging that every decision you make closes off other opportunities, and sometimes you grieve them. All decisions come with a tradeoff, and it's not unfaithful to your life to acknowledge them. You can love your child and not love parenthood itself. You can choose your partner simply because they feel like a better bet and you can see building a life with them, even though someone else more viscerally lit your fire once upon a time. You can feel sorrow at having lost total independence, even though you feel the satisfaction of connection and responsibility. I have conversations like this with friends all the time. Modern life tries to sell to us that if we're being "authentic", we can have it all and give up nothing. I simply don't think that's true. The truth is that every significant decision closes 100 doors, and refusing to acknowledge that we would have liked to have walked through some of those doors... to me, that's just fear of facing the weight of our choices. Makes me think of the famous Fig Tree section of Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar": https://www.favoritepoem.org/poems/plath-the-fig-tree/ https://www.favoritepoem.org/poems/plath-the-fig-tree/ Jacob, if you see this: it spoke to me, and gave me some peace as I've been ruminating over similar things. Thanks for writing :) --- edit: quote formatting