"I'm sorry," my husband says often.
Not because he's done anything wrong, or to offend or hurt me. But just because he can tell I am unsettled, discontent, disappointed at that moment in life in general.
He thinks he has failed because I am not happy all the time, that he needs to wrap me in all the comforts of this life.
We are a culture that has to have it all: all the intensity, all the feels, all the best.
We vote small town folk into superstar status. Everyone gets to be a hero -- just check YouTube for the most recent. We vie for rankings that supersede normal reckoning -- remember how a 4.0 used to be the best GPA possible? And let’s not forget the Big Mac is now considered average.
Every genre has a hit song that glorifies abandoning the drudgery or difficulties of life and fleeing to worry-free days. Popular movies touch on the theme, vivid images stirring up our yearning for another life. And not just in our current culture: Conjure up that mental clip of Sister Maria shedding her habit for her native dress, running through the fields, arms flung wide, singing about being alive to the purity of the music of the hills.
Laura England Miller