popping bubbles

Yesterday, we went to my boss's house to watch the Bolder Boulder, Boulder's annual 10K run. His house is about half-way on the route, and so we got to see an incredible mass of humanity streaming past. I didn't see any of the people who I knew were in the race, and saw several people that I didn't realize would be in it. My boss's wife set up a bubble machine in the front yard to keep the kids occupied and also as entertainment for the passing runners. It was fascinating to me to see runners of all ages coming past us excitedly yelling "BUBBLES!" and running with arms over their heads through the soapy, floating, spheres.

I thought of those bursting, glistening orbs when I spoke to my grandma last night and she told me that it wouldn't be too late for me to go back to school and get my PhD. The mantra I kept hearing from my mother and grandmother when I quit med school and became an engineering PhD student was that I could always change my mind and go back and get my MD. Then later when I quit my PhD program with "only" a masters degree, again the mantra that was chanted in my ear in most every telephone call "you can always go back, you can still get your doctorate".

So many people over the years have seen me as a bright, shiny object, one that could do amazing things, and over and over I keep bursting their expectations. I don't regret my choices. I feel every bubble popped has lead me in a direction that has felt right. My choices may not be ones that my mother or grandmother would have made, but I am happy. I am home.