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她年轻时的梦想是长途旅行、精致的晚宴和一个全世界最隐秘的书房——当然，no kids。然而，随着岁月的推移，她的想法渐渐在改变。如今，和她的孩子一起生活一起工作，变成了她人生中最幸福的事。 My mother and father were young, enthusiastic[1] parents. They had just entered their 20s when I was born. Children defined their new marriage and their lives as adults. Their daughters were their joy and legacy, the center of attention. Limited resources necessitated difficult choices: My sisters and I shared beds, we had a black-and-white TV in an age of color, and restaurants were a wild extravagance.[2] Both my parents worked and worked at jobs they found unfulfilling and, when they were home, seemed to nap constantly.[3] I wanted something different. Namely, a satisfying career―and the freedom to move and to take risks, to be unencumbered[4]. I dreamed of distant travel, elaborate dinner parties, and the world’s most secluded study.[5] Kids didn’t seem compatible with these goals[6]. Many of my literary heroes had no children: Katherine Mansfield, Edith Wharton, Eudora Welty.[7] Virginia Woolf was childless, and her famous declaration on the importance of a room of one’s own made me feel she was even rather chilly toward houseguests. From these authors, I gleaned that the pursuit of one’s passion subsumed all of one’s energies, leaving little behind.[8] | 
