It Hurts a Little When Children’s Dreams Die

I remember the precise moment in time when I learned the world was a cold, cruel, unfair place. I was a little kid, and judging by the car this story takes place in I had to be between the ages of two and five. I was riding down the road with my mom and I asked her a truly profound question:

“When blind people drive, how do they know where to turn?”

The resulting conversation was heart breaking. I was bereft with unadulterated hurting at the thought that someone wouldn’t be able to drive just because he’s blind. It left me reeling, wondering what other seemingly arbitrary “rules” had been forced upon us as a society.

But now, I’ve had to sit back helplessly while my own beautiful, wide-eyed, innocent daughter struggles with the reality of the cold hard truth. She sent me this text message:

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You can just feel the pain coming through the phone, fourteen words that speak volumes about what it means to have your dreams die, even if they’re dreams of living in a world where you can actually dance in a castle owned by a man who wears garters and a bustier all day. He’s the embodiment of Hugh Hefner joined with Frederick’s of Hollywood, and now it will never happen.

All because Janet (she’s a cow, I tell ya) probably has a cell phone with her. Of course, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Janet’s a bitch who would probably have insisted that Brad pull off the highway at the first sign of car trouble, so the whole thing would never have happened. And Brad would have had to have actually listened to her for once for them to end up at Dr. Frankenfurter’s castle, so it’s a moot point anyway.

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