I believe that the female need and instinct to anticipate and prepare has been critical to human survival. So, although I do now shop in a grocery store and live in a brick house, I just can’t give up that plan-ahead instinct.
This night I finish my ironing, put on my PJs and walk down the hall to peek at our snoozing children before I drop into bed.
Our son is sprawled across the bed. He is no doubt dreaming about his header into the soccer goal, in slow motion on television. I give him a soft kiss on his hard head.
Next door our daughter is a quieter sleeper. In her dreams she will be on stage, the singing diva in the spotlight. In order to give her a kiss I have to step over her clothes. These are her clothes for tomorrow. They are carefully laid out on the floor with the shirt at the top, the blue jeans long and flat, the socks dangling from the pant legs to drip into the tennis shoes.
“Ah,” I murmur, “Another 5 million years.”