I gave that money to children who still have a chance to be seen before the world teaches them to disappear.
And every morning, when the fog lifts over Lake Geneva and the light hits the glass walls of the home I built without them, I drink my coffee in the quiet and remember one simple truth.
I was never the forgotten child because I was worthless.
I was the forgotten child because they never knew how to recognize something valuable until it had already walked out the door.
