I had a dream. I had a dream pontificating the true meaning of life. As I slept last night, my mind went to my parents house. In my mind it was late at night and my mother and I were upstairs in the kitchen as it was in my childhood not as it is now (it is something out of Better Homes and Gardens now, quite snazzy). We were on either side of the old round kitchen table. We were our current ages and I was just as pregnant. We had been having quite the conversation on the significance of time on emotion, the mind’s ability to not only store but create, and the vast difference between living and being alive.
As I sat there talking to my mother, I stopped and asked “What is the true meaning and purpose in life?” She looked thoughtful for a moment, opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, closed it, and then smiled at me. “I’ll show you”, she said. She went and leaned deep into a cabinet I had never, ever noticed before.
She brought forth a large bucket of KFC. We ate chicken and biscuits for the rest of the dream.
She was right.