If I want to be part of her life, I can’t rely on buying her things or taking her places.
I have to be enough all by myself.
Just as I am.
Without the fame and the bank account.
Thatis what she sparked in Fiji. That realization that I’ve never had to get to knowmyself. Who I am when I’m notJonas Rutherford.
She makes me want to bemore.
She inspired my risks on bigger roles, but that’s not what I’m most proud of from the past two years.
I’m most proud of my podcast.
Of finding fascinating people around the country to interview about their journey to discovering who they are and what mark they’re supposed to leave on the world.
Their obstacles. Their advantages. Who they were as kids and who they choose to be as adults.
What makes them tick.
I like to think it’s inspiring people all over the globe to reach deep and embrace their biggest dreams despite their biggest fears.
That it’s helping them realize it’s okay to contemplate the question ofwho am I when it’s just me?
That this is my way of improving the world.
By encouraging the people on the planet to be a little more.
The way she encouragedmeto be more.
“Oh, they’re so little, they’re still nursing,” she whispers.
I’m not watching the deer.
I’m watching the absolute joy and rapture on her face.
Wondering if I can ever be the reason she glows like that.
I wantthatto be my purpose in life.
Making Emma happy. Being a person who makes every day better for her. Being what shewants.
I know she doesn’t need me.
She doesn’t need my money. My connections. My fame. My family.
She already has dreams and goals and a purpose. Happiness and joy and laughter and support.
So I have to be enough,just me, if I’m going to fit into her life.
“Isn’t it fascinating?” She looks at me, that smile shining brighter than anything Hollywood can produce.
“I mean it,” I say thickly. “I’m leaving the public spotlight.”
Her lashes flutter and her smile morphs into anO.
“I want to behere. With you and Bash.”
