The Meaning of Life
Essay: If you could ask the Universe one question, and have it answered, what would it be?
I know most people would ask the
Universe what the meaning of life is. And maybe that is my question.
"There is nothing you can ever do that
will make me stop loving you." I held my mother's words in my
mind as I forced myself out of the bathroom, into the hallway, and to
the top of the stairs. "You may do things that make me angry,
sad, or disappointed, but I will never stop loving you." The
first time she had said that to me I was three years old and tried to
hide the fact I'd spilled bright red finger paint all over the dining
room carpet. When mom had found out and asked why I'd covered the
spill up instead of telling her, I told her it was because I thought
she'd get mad and not love me anymore. See, daddy had left not that
long before and I was afraid if mom got mad, she'd leave and never
come back, too. The tears in her eyes had scared me until she'd told
me she'd never stop loving me. And so far,
she'd kept her word. Trying not to hyperventilate as I went down the
stairs, I heard my mom in the kitchen, making dinner. I debated
waiting until after we'd eaten (or she'd eaten anyway, I wasn't
particularly hungry at the moment), but knew it was just a coward
trying to delay the inevitable. "Mom?"
I hated the fearful hesitancy in my voice, but tried to ignore it and
keep talking. She turned and her smile quickly vanished. I guessed
because of the look on my face, which in the upstairs mirror had been
pretty awful. She sat down, some mom instinct telling her whatever I
had to say was going to be bad. She was right.
After I told her, I expected her to jump up,
yell, scream, something, anything. A part of me wished she would, the
part that felt dirty and bad and wrong. But she didn't. She just
looked at me with an expression of sadness and utter disappointment.
"How could you be so stupid?" I
told her I didn't know. She never yelled, never berated me, just
sighed and put her hand over mine. I must have still looked as though
I was expecting something, some kind of angry outburst, but she just
smiled sadly and said screaming at me wasn't going to do anything but
waste energy. Being a single mom all these years, I supposed she had
learned how to manage her energy well, especially with someone like
me as a daughter. The relief I felt at
confessing was short-lived as we talked about the options. None of
them were great and mom only gave them to me, she wouldn't help me
choose. That, she said, was completely up to me. After I told her
what the boy had said, basically a threat of complete denial and a
lawsuit, she seemed to agree to leave him out of it. Of course
paternity tests and lawyers could be brought in, but his initial
reaction made it seem a futile effort at best. I was on my own.
After the doctor's visit, mom let me stay home
for the rest of the week. I told everyone I'd had the flu. But
really, I had guilt. Was it the right decision? Should I have gone
for adoption? Or tried to be a mom at 16? I tried to believe that it
was better not to bring a child into an already difficult world
without starting at such a disadvantage, but it was hard. Was I wrong
to not even try? Or let a childless couple have a chance? It's been
almost two years and I still think about it every night. Would my
baby have grown up to be someone wonderful, in spite of the rough
beginning? Or would they have been messed up from having a mother who
was too young, too naive, too poor, too everything but ready to raise
a child properly? Had I made the right decision? So
if I could ask the Universe any question and have it answered, really
answered, so I knew if I had made the right decision, it would be:
Who would my baby have grown up to be? Maybe
someday I'll know the answer. Maybe after I leave this earth and go
wherever it is people like me go, I'll find out. Until then, I will
spend every night wondering.
Wiping away the tears, Stacy deleted the file and started Mr. O'Neill's essay on 'What One Question Would You Ask the Universe?' over.
If I could ask the Universe any question, it would be, 'What is the Meaning of Life...'