And then I look into my son’s face as he drifts off to sleep. In the soft glow of the night light, his toddler features are small and perfectly even, his skin impossibly smooth. His eyelids droop lower and lower until they close, in a motion that is too slow for film but exactly right for real life. His lips curve in the slightest smile.
And I think: this. This is the meaning of life.
What is your meaning of life?