From infancy onward, I was given a promise. I was told a story about the world I’d live in one day soon.

One day, the world will be rid of all evil people. All good people that live now, and that have lived in the past, will be on the Earth, which will be made into a beautiful Garden. We will leave in peace and happiness forever. The animals will be docile, the produce will be large and rich and plentiful, all humans will have eternity to learn, to grow, to enjoy each other and the Universe. You have forever with your loved ones in a life that resembles all the best parts of this one.

One day, I realized that this isn’t likely true. I’ve come to realize that the true blessing that we all have is to be alive — here, and now. To live in a time of unprecedented progress, of globalized knowledge, of the acceptance and protection of more and more of us. We do live in a precarious time, but it’s because so much is on the line — things have never been this good for so many of us.

My mother still believes this story, and still hopes to live in a Garden. She believes that people who reject this offer, who don’t want it and pursue it, aren’t eligible. She believes that I am “dead.” She knows that I’m alive — she wants me to be safe and happy, and will even help me when she can, but she believes me to be dead, and wants nothing to do with me.