a/n: So I tried writing a short story today. Here it is.

I was sitting in the park. On a picnic blanket my family's had forever, watching an ant crawl onto it. I stare at it wondering if it will crawl towards me or back onto the grass. I consider whether I should flick it away, but instead I leave it out of the pure curiosity of which way it will choose to go. It inches over in my direction and climbs up onto my shoe. Oh- another choice, will it start crawling up my leg or back onto the blanket? It crawls up my leg.

How long will I let this go on?, I think to myself, How long can an ant even keep the attention of a human?

It becomes an experiment: Let's see how long this will last...

I realize how gross? weird? it is I'm letting a bug crawl around on me, wondering if I'll allow the discomfort of this realization to ruin the experiment. But now that the thought is in my head I can't forget about it. So, I finally swat it away.

The little bugger didn't go very far. It climbs right back up onto my foot in an attempt to continue his journey. Impressed by its persistence, I decide to resume the experiment. Again, I watch him climb wondering how far I'll let him go this time.

In the middle of writing this I thought it might be the most clever thing I've ever written. Near the end I decide it might not even be good enough to show anyone.                                Will they understand the metaphor?

Honestly, it was the first time I felt like a real writer.

My attention is taken away by a woman pulling a wagon down the sidewalk with three kids. Two boys and a girl. That's what I would want. Two boys and a girl. I think to myself and wonder how long it's been since I let myself think about having kids. I notice the two boys drop their hats simultaneously onto the grass before running to the playground. With their little sister behind them just trying to keep up and their mother picking up their hats while keeping a close eye.

No, seriously. When was the last time I thought about being a mom?

I remember being that teenage girl that was constantly fantasizing about a husband that would love me and our beautiful children that would give our lives purpose. Then I grew up. Decided that my education and career would have to be priority number one and the hunt for a mate would have to wait. Or that's just what I wanted to let myself believe. Maybe I realized I would have to show my daughter what a strong beautiful woman can accomplish in this harsh world but I wasn't quite sure of that myself. Maybe I realized I would have to teach my sons how to treat a woman with respect but can't remember the last time a man showed me much of it.

Wait, so why now? Why does the thought not terrify me the way it used to? Did I become that strong beautiful woman? Did I finally meet a man that effortlessly treats me with respect?

Both? Both.