At age 5, I wanted to be an artist.

At age 8, an author.

age 10, a doctor.

age 12, a teacher.

Age 15, a lawyer.

Age 18, an international missionary.

Age 19, a photographer.

Age 21, a relief worker.

At age 23, I’m a youth counselor. Next year I might decide to be a federal agent. Often I become frustrated (and even frightened) by the idea that I’m not sure where, exactly, I’m going. Why is it that I can never just be content with who and where I am? I wish that I could insert something deep and thought-provoking here, but I can’t and I won’t. I’ll just look at my list and imagine what I’ll be adding in the next seventy years. I might be a one-woman show, but at least I’ll never stop entertaining myself.