Making our will, we’re forced to think about the worst case scenario, what if we both died, where should the kids go, who should take care of them? We decide what makes the most sense is to put them with their Aunt Kate, up in Olympia, growing up with all of their cousins and uncles and aunts and Gop and Bop. They’d join the pack and be a part of the brood, they’d see snow with their grandfather and their summers would be all soft serve ice cream from the family store. Sometimes even whales from the window of their house. I get so caught up in imagining this life for them, it sounds like such an idyllic life, that I forget that in this scenario, I’m fully dead. Should we die? I wonder for an eighth of a second. WAIT NO, I remember. I should live. That’s better for them, and for us, and for me.