Mom, What's the Meaning of Life?

You are a mother.

You carry a general tiredness, a kind of boredom. And suddenly, in that state of I have so much to do and I don't want to do any of it, you hear your two children asking you something.

"Mom… what's the meaning of life?"

"What?"

"Tell me, Mom…"

"Well, I don't know. Let's say: to be happy, to be healthy. Then… to get married, to have children. After that—to give birth to them, to breastfeed them day and night, to wipe their bottoms, to feed them… and in the end, not to be left alone, if you're lucky. Something like that, I guess. I'm not sure I know either."

"Mom… what's the meaning of life?"

"Where do you even get questions like this? It's probably hard for you to understand now."

"From a cartoon. Tell us… what's the meaning of life?"

I look at them—four little eyes fixed on me. I crouch down to their level and I feel guilty. What's wrong with me? Why do I feel like this? As if I'd ask my own mother now, at this age—Mom!!! What's the meaning of life? And she would want to ask her mother, and all the generations before her who spent their whole lives chasing an answer to this question.

Did anyone ever find it? What do we live for? For money, houses, land, gold? Surely not. That can't be the right answer. For power, status, recognition? Hmm… those aren't much use either. At best you end up with a monument you no longer need.

I search my conscience, and everything I've learned so far, for an answer. I think you can also forget the question—ignorance is somehow more comfortable. Maybe the children have forgotten already. So I watch them more closely: they've each found a toy, their attention drifting elsewhere. I hope I'm lucky and the conversation is over…

The youngest comes to me and wraps his arms around my legs—maybe he felt me sinking. I kneel beside him, take his head in my hands. His blue eyes are like a cosmos; I stare, hypnotized. The older one comes too, to join the hug—and then the question comes again:

"Mom, what's the meaning of life?"

"I think I'm looking for it too, kids. All our lives we look for meaning—or we try to give our life meaning."

"I like looking."

"Me too!" the little one shouts. "Let's look for the blue toy car!"

…Search.