There’s so much I want to tell her. Not to waste a second of that precious youth. To hold her family close while she has them. To go after love like it’s a war and she’s losing. But what would I have said, if someone had told me those things when I was her age? I try to picture it, me walking around town aimlessly with Dot, some old woman coming up to us to impart her wisdom. We would have laughed and walked away, thought nothing more of it. Because the young think they know it all already, don’t they? They don’t know how they’ll feel later. How lonely and wistful. That’s the trick of it.
