A Pink Dot

My eyes are blurry as I stare at the map. I zoom out and lose sight of my cities name. It is covered by pink dots. I zoom in so I can find my street. There is a pink dot two blocks from my home. There is a red dot 4 blocks from my home. There are two red dots just across the street from the gas station I go to every day. Apparently, red dots can be roomies. 

Those two red dots just a couple of minutes from my house are convicted rapists. That red dot 4 blocks from my house is convicted of sexual battery to a party and/or animal unable to consent. 

But the one that scares me the most is the pink dot. Just two blocks from my home. On the hill I take when the snow gets too deep, when the roads are too slick. I have never hated the color pink so much. 

He is an average looking man. Born in 1965. All of his pictures show vacant eyes. Like he's empty. I don't know but I wonder if he's ever been close. Do we shop at the same stores? Have I bumped into him at the gas station? How close is too close? Two blocks is too close. 

That pink dot haunts me. I didn't know he was a pink dot. Not that the red ones are okay. But I know I would fight back. Not that it would help. But I would. Kicking and screaming. They could get me but I'd sure as fuck leave some injuries going out. But that pink dot sends a chill over me. Sends disgust through my veins and I can taste the stomach acid in the back of my throat. 

He doesn't have an alias. No distinctive markings on his body. He is an average man. An average man. An average man. Could have been a School Teacher. A Dentist. A Salesman. He could have been a family man. A husband. A father. A pet owner. But he is not. He is a pink dot. 

And I wonder where his victim is. He was convicted in 1996, I think. That would make his victim 14 now. And the kid probably doesn't have any idea. But the scar is there. How would an infant know? But maybe they do. And all I can think about is that pink fucking dot. 

A baby is beautiful. A baby is pure. A baby is cooed at and snuggled and held gently. A baby is not for a demented minds sexual arousal. A baby is not for someones sexual taking. And my mind goes blank because I can't even process the thought. I don't want to imagine how. I don't want to know why. There are just questions that cannot be answered. 

I do not regret knowing that pink dot exists. I do not regret feeling sick by the thought that he is so fucking close. I've said it before and I'll say it again...ignorance is not bliss. It is the demise of our world. It is the corruption of our children. It is the stealing of innocence. 

We cannot eradicate all of the evil from the world. We cannot take justice into our own hands, though we may be so tempted. We cannot guarantee that wherever we go, danger does not sit close by, awaiting...but we can educate ourselves. We can put ourselves on the line for the ones we love. We can face things we would rather avoid so the ones that depend on us never have to. 

The National Sex Offender Registry is a preventative measure. One used to enlighten and protect. It is not used or intended for ammunition or witch hunts. Use it wisely but please, use it. In a perfect world, the map would be clean of all the colors of the rainbow. But this is not a perfect world. Stay conscious and aware and most importantly...listen. I hope, with all of my being, that this will help in some way to make at least one person more aware. So our children are not victims to those colored dots. 

FTN! to the dangers we cannot see and to the ones we could but ignore. It only takes one person to save a neighborhood child. "No kids, not that house." I would do it for a child I did not know and I hope someone would do it for my son.