My Wacky Dreams Served a Purpose

But my son still died, so what good did they do?

Photo by Seth Doyle on Unsplash

When I was a young teenager listening to the Osmonds, the Partridge Family, and Three Dog Night on my transistor radio, I gleefully plunged into a world of pure imagination. I clutched my hairbrush in my fist like a microphone, flipping my hair back and forth as I danced in front of the mirror.