Saturday, February 17, 2018

Here we are now.

Dear future hubster,
 sometimes I wonder how I/we will be in few years. You are supposed to be in the picture. Maybe kids too? Will we be doing the same things as today, listening to the same music, hanging around with friends, drinking wine and maybe smoking few cigarettes if we feel like? 
Or will our Sundays start at dawn, kids screaming in our ears, lots of outdoor activities to get them entertained and tired, and little time for us to chill on the sofa?
I guess these two scenarios do not exclude each other, but I wonder if I will still feel free to pour myself an extra glass of wine, if listening to my teenage years' music will still make sense or if it would suddenly feel awkward? Will I be able to explain to our kids that I spent hours trying to guess Losing my religion lyrics? Will I be willing to tell them that sometimes my dark side still runs up that hill with the Placebo? And you, my dear hubster, would you roll up your cigarette in hiding?
I wonder if there is a recipe to grow up without regrets, to be able to take care of tiny little humans without fear of messing up their lives forever.
No need to give me answers now my dear, I am sure we will have plenty of Sundays to figure them out. And though I think Nirvana’s songs may not sound the same to me anymore, wine will definitely taste better the older and wiser I get.

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