She's Right

We drove south to visit my parents. We slept in the room I used to share with my little sister. Many years ago, my sister and I would stand in the window between our twin beds and watch the neighbor kids playing in the summertime dusk. Our Dad would come in occasionally to remind us we were supposed to be sleeping. Bedtime was 8:30, no exceptions. At the time, I thought this was incredibly unfair. Tony, Douglas, Greg and Victor all got to play right up to 10:00, squeezing every last drop of utility out of the sun before it dove into the meanders of the Columbia. My Dad’s response to my protestations would usually invoke some virtue like moderation and/or discipline. He would always conclude by stating that you can’t have it all. I recounted all of this to her as we lay in bed listening to the sounds of breakfast being built. Nobody gets to have all of it. Lot’s of people aren’t even happy with what they’ve got. I told her that what we have is everything I need. I’m so glad she’s with me. Anyway, it’s a good house and they’re good people. That’s what she told me as we piled into Truck Truck Number 2 on Sunday afternoon and headed north for home. She’s right.