In Process

There is a big world my children will walk into one day.

In truth, they already walk in this big world, but it is like the dream version where bad guys are mostly fictional and the golden rule is standard and black and white has not yet melded into the complexity of gray. Where they hold the hands of adults who love them and who make sense of inconsistencies and who carry the heavier things of this life until they are old enough to manage them.

There is a big world that we walk into everyday.  Where humans are trafficked and children are exploited and people's vulnerabilities and misdeeds are manipulated to keep them in slavery.

But sometimes it feels like I walk in the dream world, too.  My reality is so far from their realities.  And yet these miseries are not so far from me. A few doors away, maybe.  A few miles at most.

I've found my mind drawn to them recently, these anonymous sufferers.  They have taken residence in my head, and I'm left wondering how to reconcile their existence with mine, wondering what to do with the knowledge of problems so deep and wide.

It's an incomplete thought, I know. But I want to keep looking past the illusion until I find an answer (is there an answer?). This is life in process.