Write My Name Across the Sky

by Barbara O'Neal

The great tragedy of aging is not the loss of the supple body but the illusions we are forced to leave behind, one after the other, like a string of pearls from a necklace. That all will be well, that dreams can come true, that we can always do what we wish, that sacrifice and sorrow are not inevitable.

But childhood is fleeting. A relationship with a child is a rich and rewarding thing, but it is a relationship and therefore simply a part of a person’s life, not the whole.

Why do people put up with so much, or rather, why do they settle for so little?