My Little Girl

A few months ago I had a dream. I was in a room, a bedroom, a little girl's bedroom, sitting in a chair, and standing before me was a little girl, about seven/eight years old. She stood before me in her dress, her brown hair hanging straight almost to her waist. She was my daughter. I did not know her name, but I knew this fact without a doubt, that she was my child. Throughout the course of the dream we cried together, about what, I never knew, and laughed together, about stupid little stuff. The dream is as clear to me as any memory I have. In particular, one thing. I remember how heavy she was. I could feel the weight of her in my arms. I can not feel things in my dreams. I see, of course, and hear things, I think I can even smell things sometimes, but my sense of touch does not work in my dreams, it never has. Except for this one time. I have never experienced anything quite like this dream, before or since. When I awoke I was immediately disturbed, because she was gone, and I knew she did not exist, had never existed. For the entirety of that day I was in a funk, I was depressed. In a way I mourned. I missed her. I didn't even know her name, but I missed her.

I never wanted children. Since I was a kid myself, I always said I didn't want kids. I didn't relate to them then and I still don't know how to interact with my little cousins very well. But something has changed in the last year or two. Instead of cringing at a child's playful scream in the grocery store or restaurant, I actually smile a little now. A kid running around seemingly unattended used to make me seethe. Now seeing him or her happy makes me happy, too. Who is this person who no longer finds children to be alien-like monsters?

I find myself thinking more and more about the children who could or should have been, and children who might still be. I hope one day...

On Wednesday the Supreme Court ruled that executing a person for raping a child is unconstitutional. I'm against the death penalty. Death is supposed to be the severest punishment one can receive, but that has never made sense to me. To me death is a release, it brings the potential for something better than what we had on earth. That is, of course, my faith speaking, but still. I have always thought that life in prison was a greater punishment. Why let someone die when they can spend the entirety of their natural life in a small, plain cell, being denied the great benefits of this world?

I don't know if executing a person for raping a child should be considered constitutional. Which is the greater crime, rape or murder? Murder can be justified. Can rape? If murder and treason are still reasons for execution in this country, why exclude this particular crime? One that is arguably more heinous than any other.

I'm still against the death penalty. I don't think that a child rapist should be executed any more than a murderer or traitor should be executed. But... I think about that little girl with the long brown hair, and the way it felt to know that she was mine, and then to know that she was gone. Would I still feel the same way if she were here, if I could really feel the weight of her in my arms?