The next Monday Charlie was waiting at the stop, stooping a bit more, a little bit more grey, and without a tie. He seemed to have shrinked again. Inside the bus was a silence akin to that in a church. Even though no one had talked about it, all those of us, who he had made such an impression on that summer, sat with our eyes filled with tears and a bunch of wild flowers in our hands. A renowned feminist teaches us how to follow our dreams .
Children are like kites .
They hit the roof. You patch, comfort and assure them that someday they will fly. A Chinese panacea to cure every sorrow one might have. Share this old-time wisdom from George Washington's cherry tree.