In a few short days, I will board a flight and return to the U.K. I will again "play the rock star" on foreign soil for a few days. I'll make music in beautiful places, with people I'm honored to share the stage with and call friends. The reunion with the crew who serve us tirelessly and ensure that every show is a technical success will be sweet. I'm no rock star, but you couldn't tell it from the crowd. Once again, I get to live out one of my fondest dreams.
Many of the things I hoped for as a child once seemed distant and unattainable, yet I've lived them. Time and time again, my life proves to be one filled with wonder, beauty, and adventure. Counter-intuitively, it is because I'm non-neurotypical, not in spite of it. I know who I am. I now know what I am. I enjoy being me.
My disdain for hope is well-known to those who read regularly. I reluctantly confess. I still dream.
Where I once dreamed for myself and later for Amanda and me together, I now dream for my boys. It is this dream that still remains. It's the one I'm still chasing, still trying to understand how to bring into the real world. It's my dream that I will someday hear my boys say that they know who and what they are. I long to hear them say that they enjoy life because of what they are and not in spite of it.
Like me, I dream that they come to view the things that make them different as a springboard and not a limitation. May it be far sooner and far younger for them than for me. Like that first note in my first over-seas gig, I long for that first glimpse that my boys are arriving at the address that my heart and mind now call home.
Some dreams still remain, but this is the big one. I'll gladly trade the rest for this one, if only given the chance.
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