I had a dream once, years ago. I could barely recall anything, but I vaguely remember striding through a forest of red willow trees and falling skies with everyone I cared about.
At some point, they couldn't continue with me, so they urged me to move on alone. They would never reach me, nor find me, and all my legs could do was walk forward, even when my heart begged I stay back.
It was scary, and having my parents crouched down below my knees felt like that dream.
And I knew then, that routines I once used to take advantage of had slipped through my fingers, my normalcy had been reviewed to fit parts of me I was never familiar with, and the two people meant to comfort me the most might never treat me the same again.
How was I supposed to react to my parents kneeling before me like I w
