I might argue that “alternate universe”…or alternate reality stories are not only their own genre, but perhaps my favourite genre.

Stories that ask the questions and tell the stories of…what if Hitler and the Nazis won the war…what if the aliens landed at Roswell instead of crashing…what if Neil Armstrong and the boys found someone waiting for them on the Moon?

These are stories that are a combination of historical and science fiction.

Some days, though, and this feels like one of those days…I wish I lived in one of those universes and, one day, would wake up and find that I am actually in the reality I dreamed and hoped for as a child.

Example, I should have been teaching high school for almost 20 years by now…but I made a choice that took me off that track entirely.

These wishes, though…to wake up…go away pretty quick as a thought quickly enters my noggin:  “How proud would my girls be?”…quickly followed by:  “…but they wouldn’t exist…”

If wishes were horses, all babies would ride ponies…and I’d be a childless high school teacher with a potential as a rock n’ roll musician and declining offers from NASA to join the next Lunar mission.

I never had a wish to be childless…nor would I ever…but when I look at what I wanted to be and wanted to do as a youth…with my current knowledge of the “real life”, I would never have had time for children.

As such, those two little girls that I got to talk with last night…that we shared a few giggles over a soon to be cancelled television show (Chuck…and based on current ratings, it should be cancelled, unfortunately, but I will likely discuss that in a blog post tomorrow as that does not really pertain to this)…they are my world.

My eldest and I had some alone time whilst my youngest was at a rehearsal for an upcoming Christmas show.  We visited the book store in the hopes she might share some nugget on what her younger sister might want for her upcoming 10th birthday (OMG…my youngest turns 10 in two fucking weeks…dammit, I am starting to feel old).  As we were waiting for the last ten minutes, she and I sat in the car and had a discussion…I’ve been involved with the horses for over a year now.  Her younger sister is very excited about the horses and, call it a hunch, come high school will want to live up here.  My discussion with my oldest, however, was dampened by one simple phrase:  “Daddy, I don’t want this to come out bad…”

Simply put, she has different interests than her sister.  I know this.  She knows this.  Everyone knowing my two little ones knows this.  But she is so afraid to offend me that she was scared of the discussion we had last night.  In a nutshell, due to the show she is in, I am losing a lot of time with my oldest over the next few months…likely until March.  Her mother, whom I get along with much better know (but I trust as far as I can throw her), offered me time alone with my eldest to ‘make up’ for some of this…and that is why I initiated the discussion.

She’s a city girl and, with my current lifestyle, she is afraid that will hurt me.

On one hand, I am disappointed that she worries about this…that she feels she has to soften the blow for me on such.  There was no disrespect from her in our discussion, but this part pointed out to me that she does not quite yet know the man I am.  She will learn that, so long as there is mutual respect, honesty will take her a long way with me and she has no need to fear repercussions from such…but she’s only 11 and has a lot of learning yet to do.

On the other hand, I am happy to see her starting to find her own way.  This show she is in, literally her first job, I stepped aside any complaints as it is for her.  Again her mother has offered time for this…but even her mother does not understand that, for my daughters, I will give anything to help them reach their dreams…or at least to learn if reaching such is possible.

For the record, from what I have been told of the first three performances of Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat…all annoying religious discussion aside…my eldest may reach that dream.  She is enjoying it.

…and I love the fact that she enjoys it and that I can help facilitate her finding that enjoyment.

Perhaps, above all else, in return for the little bit of facilitation I can offer…she owes me nothing…other than the occasional reminder that she knows who I am.  That’s good enough for me.

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