Two years ago on a vaporetto in Venice, I stood next to my eldest daughter. She held my hand. The water ‘s reflection tickled her cheeks and the early morning sun sparkled in her eyes. It was one of those near perfect moments that dot our lives. As we docked, a poem framed over the door caught my attention. It has yet to leave me.
The cruel girls we loved
Are over forty,
Their subtle daughters
Have stolen their beauty;
And with a blue stare
Of cool surprise,
They mock their anxious mothers
With their mothers’ eyes.
-David Campbell