This all matters to me because I think we'd like to move (away from here), which will be very difficult unless something miraculous happens. But that's another post.
As my head spins with a million conjectures, my thoughts naturally turn to my two boys, who are sleeping soundly. Elliott, poor dear, has one fewer toenails than he should. While romping in the back yard last night, he caught it on something, and pulled the pinky toenail right off. He has taken it well, though he limps around a bit, and I am doing my best with the Bactine and ointment. If our luck holds, we won't have a toe situation on our hands.
I can't protect them from everything. Try as I might, I can't ensure that all toenails will remain on their toes, as we hope they will. But I do my best. And that's why we're trying to move, away from our corner lot, and a bit farther away from the rough-around-the-edges parts of our city. I look back at the environment my parents created for me, and contrast it with the one I'm providing for my kids, and I keep wishing I could do better. Something quieter. Something greener. Something safer.