You are the trip I did not take;
You are the pearls I cannot buy;
You are my blue Italian lake;
You are my piece of foreign sky.
(“To My Child,” quoted in Charles L. Wallis, ed., The Treasure Chest , 54)
I read this poem in THIS post(which is a great read by way so go read it!) and I loved it. I think it's beautiful... having kids, loving them, and staying home with them means so much more than all the silly things we give up for awhile to do it. I never feel like I'm missing out or that I'm not being fullfilled. I recently found a letter I wrote to my older self when I was in high school. In it I said that in 5, 10, 15 years, ect. I hope that I will be a mommy. :)