Mad Honey

by Jodi Picoult

We are so lucky to have our children, even for a little while, but we take them for granted. We make the stupid assumption that as long as we are here, they will be, too, though that’s never been part of the contract.

finally, we arrive, and there it is: the great horizon and the vast wilderness and it is all more stunning than it has any right to be. The White Mountains are an ocean of blues and purples surrounding us. Golden sunlight shines down on the lakes and in the valleys between the peaks. There’s a huge bird circling in the sky, and as I look closer, I see that it is a bald eagle. I’ve never seen one in the wild before. The whole panorama makes me realize how small I am, in the grand scheme of things. How insignificant my problems are when you zoom out and out and out and see the whole of the world.

It’s inconceivable, if you think about it, the complex ways people have come up with for being horrible to one another.

How similar does someone have to be to you before you remember to see them, first, as human?