It’s really mean of you to say that the only lives that mattered are the ones that lived for something or died for something. ~Hazel to Augustus, The Fault in Our Stars
The book was turned to the page with Anne Frank’s name, but what got me was the fact that right beneath her name there were four Aron Franks. Four. Four Aron Franks without museums, without historical markers, without anyone to mourn them.
~Hazel’s observance at The Anne Frank House, The Fault in Our Stars
We are told from the time we’re very young that we are special. And we are. In the sense that there’s no one exactly like us. But not in the sense that we will all leave a lasting mark on this world. That’s a harsh reality but it’s true. Of course we all believe we’re the exception. Other people will live the ordinary lives. They will be the supporting characters to our starring roles. We are the Anne’s they are the Aron’s.
Except we’re probably not. And that’s okay.
At least I’m trying to be okay with it. When a friend recently wrote about her blogging funk it really resonated with me. Especially this:
I guess sometimes it feels like you have to be EPIC every time you post and really, that’s just not how life is, right?
~Karen O, Losing the Glass Slipper
There’s really nothing epic about my life from the outside looking in (which is, I suppose, why I haven’t written much about it lately). Honestly, it doesn’t even feel all that epic from the inside. But it does feel right. It’s a perfectly ordinary life full of car pooling kids to activities, part time work that is more about necessity than passion, dinner and dishes, fiddling around online, running my fingers through my husband’s hair while he watches TV, texting jagged conversations with my friends when we can squeeze it in, mountains of laundry, and too much Netflix.
This isn’t to say that this all there is. Some days my life is full of small adventures. But even on the adventurous days I’m not fighting for any great causes. I’m not working to enact global social change, I’m not even consistently posting on this blog. But I’m content. My heart is full. I’m happy. And that is it’s own kind of epic.