Children. Just children.
I’m not going to say his name. I mean, as of right now, it’s a him. Maybe it’s even a them. I don’t care.
No, that’s not right. I care a whole hell of a lot. I care enough not to learn a new name for evil.
A few hours before, I found this quote, by any number of people if you are trusting the internet for answers: “It’s better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.” I liked it. I shared it. A few hours later I still believe it, but I wonder, how?
Childhood. It should be the best thing – the best thing – in the world. Don’t you miss when everything was new and exciting and nothing bad had happened, or could happen? Isn’t it what we as a universe aim to protect? Isn’t that why we tell our children about Santa?
My childhood had some great moments. It had some icky moments. It had a whole lot of blissfully unaware moments. It had bike rides, books, swimming lessons, New Kids On The Block t-shirts. Barbies with my best friend, in a dad-made dollhouse. Scraped knees, broken arms, sprained ankles. It had bullies. It had crying. It had silly laughter and strange fashion, a lisp and a pink room with blue shag carpet. Music with my brother, sitting in “my spot” with my dad, everything with my mom. It was safe. It was blessed. I took it for granted and that’s the way it should be.
Children. If you’re lucky enough to have them, make their childhood safe and happy as long as possible and pray that the world gets better, or at least stops getting worse.
Let me know how I can help.