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The Meaning of Life (Maybe)

Last night, in the quiet heat of our sleeping bedroom, I asked my roommate what the meaning of life was.  I was joking, and when she didn't hear me. I laughed, said never mind.

I had dinner with a friend yesterday, and amidst all the laughter, all the catching up, all the memories of the last three years, she told me stories of crying children and mothers who can't take care of them.  She told me about a boy who hadn't seen the sky in a month, and I nearly cried thinking about how awful that must feel.
We talked about school, and whether we'll be able to find jobs this time next year when it's us against the world, and all the people who would love to work but simply can't.  We talked about how ridiculous some new music is, and the artists who feel that "degrading women is fun".

But sometimes I wonder about this beautiful world - about all the amazing, incredible things around us.  The ocean breathing in and out with the tides.  The mosaic of paintings in the sky each morning as the sun rises, and later that night as it sets.  The sound of a kitten purring, and the view from up on top of the highest mountains.  The feeling of laughing with a friend you haven't seen in way too long.

And I wondered if that makes up for all the awful things.  Or at least, if it doesn't, maybe it makes them less harsh.  Maybe, in a way, it balances them out for us.
Maybe that was the answer to my late night question - maybe there is no real meaning, just a balance between everything.


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