My Dearest Child,
Yesterday, when you came home in tears after hearing a rumor on the bus, I felt an overwhelming urge to comfort you. I wanted to say that the sixth-grader was merely being a bully, that bad men don’t exist, and that such horrors are only found in movies. I wanted to erase your fears and assure you that this world is simple and safe.
But deep down, I knew that I would be lying. If I could, I would shield you from harsh truths your entire life. I’d tell you that an extra helping of broccoli would make you stronger, that fairies deliver treats when your room is tidy, and that monsters are just figments of imagination—never lurking in beds or schools.
Yet, as hard as it is for both of us, there will come a day when I have to let you step into a world that doesn’t always make sense. A world where there are no fairies, no broccoli magic, and where, until recently, anyone could buy a weapon without much thought.
So, I looked into your tear-filled hazel eyes and shared the truth. Yes, there was a man who had done terrible things; yes, he had harmed innocent people, and no, there was no justification for it. I held you tightly, letting your breaths calm until your shoulders relaxed and the tears faded into red rings around your eyes.
Once you settled, I gathered you in my lap for one of our “deep talks.” Where to begin? I could have shared stories of past tragedies—Columbine, Aurora, Sandy Hook—but each time I started, I saw the fear blooming on your cheeks and couldn’t go on. Instead, I chose to speak in your language, the one of heroes and villains.
I told you about a troubled person—a sad soul seeking help yet finding only misunderstanding. This person, garbed as a villain, committed terrible acts. When I paused, your eyes were wide with curiosity, but you didn’t cry. After all, it was just a story, and stories are your forte.
“What do you think happened next?” I asked.
“A hero came!” you exclaimed with enthusiasm.
“Yes! A hero indeed!” I replied, wrapping my arms around you, feeling your heart race with excitement. I spoke of a brave young man who, after subduing the villain, cared for her wounds until help arrived.
You wanted to see images, the illustrations that accompany stories, but I had to tell you that this tale didn’t come with pictures. It was made of shared memories and haunting experiences that have shaped lives.
You laughed, a bubbly sound that both warmed and pained me. “That’s not real! Nobody would help a bad guy!” With that, I smiled, realizing that, for you, reality could sometimes surpass fairy tales.
I shared with you that many years ago, while I was a student at Penn State, real heroes emerged. A man named Thomas saved lives by confronting a villain and, yes, he even tended to her injuries. I was fortunate to meet him and express my gratitude for his bravery.
I explained that this villain was more a lost girl than a true monster. I refrained from saying her name—because we never name villains; it only gives them power.
Then we touched on the tragedy in Roseburg, Oregon. I told you of another hero, named Alex, who charged at the villain despite being shot multiple times, all while it was his own child’s birthday.
I wanted to delve deeper into the complexities of good and evil, but you grew restless, and I knew you had absorbed as much as your young mind could handle. After you left the room, I lingered, feeling the weight of memories and worries about the future.
As I passed your room later, I saw you and your sister playing, your figures engaged in imaginative battles. Life isn’t a neat game, my son; it’s chaotic. Good and bad don’t fit into tidy boxes. Villains often have their own struggles, and dragons are simply exaggerated lizards.
However, one truth remains: heroes are very real.
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In summary, the journey of understanding heroes and the reality of the world is complex. However, while the shadows of villains may loom, the light of true heroes shines brightly, reminding us of hope and courage.
Keyphrase: Heroes are real
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