When I was growing up in Pittsburgh, I was often the first to go home while all the other kids continued to play outside after dinner. It seems that I always had things that I had to do.
In college, I never stayed up all night to finish a paper or study for an exam. I’m pretty sure that I've never made a late bill payment. And in the more than twelve years that I have been writing this blog, I have written twice every week, no matter what else was going on in my life.
It’s pretty pathetic.
Last weekend, I was having an appropriately-distanced catch up with a friend I’ve known since my freshman year in college. Suddenly, I remembered all the things needing to be done at home. As I got up to go, I apologized for my perhaps-earlier-than-necessary departure.
She reminded me that in college, I always refused to go with my friends to the cheap Wednesday matinee movie because that was the time I set aside to write my weekly letter to my mother.
We are who we are.