Cape

There are too many dreams. Too many deceptive fantasies, alluring impossibilities. We envision idealized unrealities, and detest that which actually must be.

It has to stop.

My dad wore the cape for far too long. He put on his suit emblazoned with the unmistakable shield, the bright, symbolic colors, the blatant unmasked disguise. Every day, the transformation, until one had to wonder if the disguise was actually the person underneath. Every day, he became invincible, immortal, the stalwart protector, the bastion of unparalleled wisdom and knowledge entombed within an impenetrable shell of unimaginable power. Every day, he stood proud... and ran away.

I can feel my cape growing.

Often times I am not even aware it is there. When I am, I scramble to remove it, that damnable red burden; remove it and burn it, destroy it, reject it for all that it is. Then I can actually go about my day as I was meant to be, no pretense, no shadow, no begging for you to notice my nobility. I can finally let it go. I can finally be free of that crimson shroud.

And the next morning, I wake with it around my next once more, tighter than ever.

It isn't just growing bigger; it's growing out of me. I do not don this cape out of some force of will; it is a natural part of me, something I can not ever truly escape. As is my father's a part of him. This is something we must live with, not as a blight to be besmirched, nor some dark tenement for self-delusional revelry, but rather an undeniable facet at the core of our being, an ever-emboldening emblem to be embraced.

I will not dream of a world where I do not have the cape. I will not dream of a world where I can do whatever I want with it. No fantasizing about anything I might call “better.” This is the world I live in, one where a vibrant red cape grows from the nape of my neck, and all that it stands for is a reflection of who I am and who I am meant to be... if I will only embrace it.