I think people who have good parents come into the world with a

Host:
The night was quiet except for the low hum of the streetlamps and the faraway sigh of the ocean, brushing softly against the darkened pier. The sky above was a deep velvet blue, punctured by stars — those distant fires that seem to watch rather than shine. A bench sat at the end of the pier, weathered, chipped, and waiting — as if memory itself had carved it there.

On it sat Jack, his grey eyes tracing the horizon where sea met sky, where past met possibility. His coat was drawn close against the cold, but his thoughts were miles away, rippling with the same rhythm as the waves.

From behind, Jeeny approached, the click of her shoes soft on the wooden boards. Her brown eyes caught the faint light from the sea — warm, deep, and knowing. She held two cups of coffee, steam rising like prayer smoke into the night air.

She handed him one wordlessly. He nodded, murmured thanks. For a moment, neither spoke — the world between them filled with nothing but the sound of the sea and the fragile, living quiet that follows unspoken understanding.

Host:
And then, softly, as if from the wind itself, came Oprah Winfrey’s words — words that felt both gentle and heavy, like truth wrapped in gratitude:

"I think people who have good parents come into the world with a strength, yes, and an advantage."

Jeeny:
(quietly)
She’s right. It’s not about privilege, really. It’s about foundation. When you’re loved well, the world feels less like a battlefield.

Jack:
(sipping his coffee)
Yeah. You start life with someone already believing you’re enough. That kind of faith... it’s armor you don’t even know you’re wearing.

Jeeny:
Exactly. It’s not about money, or status — it’s about being seen. Really seen.

Jack:
(smiling faintly)
So, the greatest inheritance isn’t wealth, it’s self-worth.

Jeeny:
(nods)
And that’s something even the richest family can’t fake.

Host:
The wind caught her hair, blowing it softly across her face. The moonlight trembled on the surface of the water, fractured but not broken — like every heart that’s ever been shaped by love and loss.

Jack:
You know, it’s strange — how much of who we are starts long before we ever get to choose.

Jeeny:
Yeah. Childhood writes in ink, not pencil.

Jack:
(sighs)
And for those who didn’t get that kind of love, the world can feel heavier. Like they’re climbing with weights on their ankles.

Jeeny:
But some of them... some of them become the strongest of all. Because they have to build from nothing.

Jack:
You think that kind of strength ever feels the same, though?

Jeeny:
No. It’s different. Softer in some ways, sharper in others. But it’s still strength.

Host:
The waves below them whispered against the wooden posts, steady and eternal. The pier creaked softly beneath their feet, as if echoing their words — two voices speaking truths too large for language.

Jack:
I used to envy people who had good parents. That easy kind of belonging — like home wasn’t a place but a person.

Jeeny:
(quietly)
I think we all do. But envy fades when you understand what it means to rebuild yourself.

Jack:
Rebuild. That’s the right word.

Jeeny:
Yeah. People like us — we become our own parents. We teach ourselves what love should’ve been.

Jack:
And forgiveness, too.

Jeeny:
Especially that. Forgiving the people who couldn’t give what they didn’t have.

Host:
A seagull cried in the distance — not a shriek, but a low, plaintive sound. It cut through the air and dissolved into the rhythm of the sea. Jeeny’s eyes followed the sound, soft with thought.

Jeeny:
You know what’s beautiful about what Oprah said? It isn’t just about luck. It’s about responsibility — for those who were loved well to share that strength.

Jack:
Like passing the torch?

Jeeny:
Exactly. To remind others that tenderness exists — that it’s not naïve, it’s necessary.

Jack:
So, love becomes a kind of currency. Something you give away so the world doesn’t run out.

Jeeny:
(smiling)
And unlike money, it multiplies when you spend it.

Host:
Her laughter, soft and unguarded, broke through the stillness like warmth through fog. Jack’s mouth curved upward, reluctant but genuine — a rare glimpse of something unarmored.

Jack:
You know, sometimes I think the strongest people aren’t the ones who had good parents — they’re the ones who learned to love without ever seeing what it looked like.

Jeeny:
(softly)
Maybe. But even they’re building on the same truth: love — given or imagined — is what makes us human.

Jack:
So, whether you inherit it or invent it, love is still the source of strength.

Jeeny:
Exactly. Some of us grow from roots. Others grow from reaching. But both are growing all the same.

Jack:
(quietly)
I like that. “Growing from reaching.”

Jeeny:
(smiles)
Then maybe you’ve been doing that all along.

Host:
The wind had softened now, and the tide was low, pulling away from the shore as if to make room for new beginnings. The lights from the distant boardwalk shimmered faintly in the water, fractured into a thousand tiny constellations.

Jack:
You ever think about how love shapes the way we see ourselves?

Jeeny:
Every day. A child who’s loved learns, “I am worth care.” A child who isn’t spends years trying to prove it.

Jack:
That’s the cruel part — the race to earn what should’ve been given freely.

Jeeny:
But that race can lead to something too — compassion. The ones who’ve lacked love often become the best at giving it. They know its absence like a shadow.

Jack:
So, they become the light they didn’t have.

Jeeny:
Exactly. That’s the miracle of humanity, Jack — pain turning into purpose.

Host:
Her voice trembled on the word miracle — not from emotion, but from reverence. The kind of reverence born from survival, not from sermon. Jack looked at her, his eyes softening, as if recognizing something familiar and sacred.

Jeeny:
When Oprah talks about strength, she’s not glorifying privilege. She’s honoring love — the most invisible kind of wealth.

Jack:
(smiling faintly)
Wealth that doesn’t show in your bank account but in the way you treat people.

Jeeny:
Exactly. That’s the real advantage — being able to love without fear.

Jack:
And the rest of us — we learn that love isn’t something you’re given, it’s something you decide to give anyway.

Jeeny:
That’s what makes it powerful. It’s chosen, not inherited.

Host:
The waves reached their quiet crescendo, brushing against the pier’s foundation like a benediction. Above them, a single star broke free from the clouds, glinting sharp and small against the infinite sky.

The night was no longer heavy — it was tender, forgiving.

Host:
And in that still, sacred moment, Oprah Winfrey’s words expanded beyond inheritance — beyond family, beyond fortune — until they belonged to everyone who had ever learned to stand on the trembling foundation of love and loss:

That good parents don’t just raise children — they raise the strength to believe in goodness itself.

That the advantage is not in privilege, but in the quiet certainty of being seen, held, and believed in.

And that those without that inheritance are not without hope —
for love can be learned,
strength can be built,
and the heart can parent itself into wholeness.

The sea breathed softly.
The stars stood witness.
And as Jack and Jeeny sat side by side — two souls shaped by different beginnings but the same longing —
the night whispered its truth through the wind:

That love, wherever it begins,
is the only advantage worth keeping,
and the only strength that never runs out.