Repercussions

My father's parents were dreamers who made one critical mistake. They exposed a child to the consequences of their failed dreams.

Some simpering idiot may say it's lucky for me that they did, but if I'd never existed would I know it?

My father lived in opposition to his parents, forgoing most of his dreams to focus on supporting his family. But the echoes and aftershocks of his dreams and those of his parents rumbled beneath the world he made for his children.

I lived in opposition to my father. I determined I would not reproduce until I was living my dreams.

Well, here I am, pushing 50 and childless. There's a grim satisfaction in that, since I was tempted many times to squirt out a little inheritor of the family genome. We're designed to want that, and to feel very miserable at times because we haven't done it. That's why there are so us-damned many of us, all needing a place to shit.