Recipe for Self

In life's bustling kitchen, they hand me a card:

"Recipe for Success" in bold, black type.

Ingredients listed:

a spouse, two kids,

A corner office by thirty-three.

But as I scan the lines, something feels off-

These measurements don't fit my bowl.

I set the card aside, reach for my own whisk,

And begin to stir a different concoction.

A dash of solitude, a cup of Netflix binges,

Fold in laughter shared with aging parents.

Sprinkle work frustrations, let them shimmer

Until they reduce to the concentrated wisdom.

I knead my dough with calloused hands,

Each failure and triumph worked into the mix.

The kitchen fills with an aroma uniquely mine,

A scent no store-bought candle could mimic

As my creation rises in the oven of experience,

I realize there's no universal for joy.

Each life a unique dish, best savored slowly,

seasoned with patience, love, and time.

So let them keep their laminated cards,

Their one-size-fits-all approach to bliss.

I'll continue to experiment and taste,

Perfecting my own recipe for self.

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