When I was 3 or 4, I reached behind my back and felt a lump on either side that I was sure were wings sprouting. “Mommy, Mommy,” I exclaimed, “I’m growing wings!”

My mother saw what I was doing and said, “No, honey. Those are just your shoulder blades. They are bones in your back and when you reach behind, they pop up a little bit.”

“NO!!!,” I shouted defiantly, and ran back and forth across the front yard trying to fly.

Years later, I have come to believe that it as always been the well-intentioned disbelief of others that has robbed me of my dreams. And I have determined I must believe even more strongly if I am to make such things real before the window of opportunity is lost and the magic has run out of my world.