Weeds

I confess: I am often held hostage by cultural lies, peddled by a self-centered, money-obsessed, fame-worshiping society, which, no doubt, I am part of and help keep alive.

Because every time I look out at my backyard, I see a small junkyard tangled up in weeds, with mismatched patio furniture and too many primary-colored plastic toys strewn across patchy grass that’s mostly dirt. I want a vast, green backyard that stretches for acres, and outdoor entertainment furniture that’s been handpicked by Joanna Gaines. At least, I want that for a moment — until I hear the giggles coming from the sandbox, where my children delight in pure, innocent play. They don’t care about the weeds or the furniture. They only seek love and attention, not the latest Instagram trend.

I hope as they grow up they can look beyond the superficial. Because, truly, what is the point?

What is the point of working a job where people treat you like garbage just so you can be grossly over-paid? What is the point of piling up your money in a vault or spending it all on thousand-dollar bed sheets? What is the point of filling a cabinet full of Waterford Crystal? Or a shoe closet full of Louis Vuittons?

We must all pay our bills and clothe our bodies, and I too like nice things. I care about appearances. But there is a line. Sometimes it’s hard to see where the line begins and ends. How many…