The Little Prince began with a boy who made simple drawings. When he showed them to adults, they didn’t understand. I knew how he felt; no one understood how much I missed Mom. “Jesus needs her in heaven, hon,” the ladies said, as if I didn’t need her down here. I continued reading. “It is such a mysterious place, the land of tears”—the words from a dead aviator comforted me more than trite phrases from folks I knew. “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” The book carried me to another world, to a place that let me forget.
