I was 19 when I first met Danny. He turned his little head to me and smiled, as the rest of his body lay motionless in the hospital bed.

Danny was two years old, playing outside his parent’s house one Sunday evening. As his Grandma was leaving after dinner, she backed the car over Danny’s body, crushing his spine. When I met him he was six.

Four years……
One day I told Danny about a land far, far away, in the deepest recesses of imagination, where wild things lived…
I bought him “Where the Wild Things Are”
and  we wheeled around in his chair, pretending to be in that world, if only for a little while…
I tried to watch the movie last night.
I was glad to remember Danny.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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