On Fatherhood
Over breakfast, my five-year-old daughter has just asked me a question that is at once touchingly naive and profoundly insightful. She does this to me all the time. Today I cannot answer, cannot even speak. I realize that a time will come when she’ll ask questions of the great world, not merely of me. I don’t answer, don’t even move. For a moment, it is as if time stands still. Could it be that the sages were wrong? That the...
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