About This Story
In this story, I’m inching a little closer to one of those human things that’s hard to write about, or understand. ‘True Love’. ‘Soul Mates’. When you’re young, you can argue about whether these things are real or not; and I’m not as young as I was. I’ll give you a Chesterton passage about it:
“You sing of the young gods easily
G.K. Chesterton, The Ballad of the White Horse
In the days when you are young;
But I go smelling yew and sods,
And I know there are gods behind the gods,
Gods that are best unsung.
Oh, and the mother is quoting Euripides. And lying about it. I shouldn’t explain. It ruins the magic when the author explains what something means.