Yesterday morning, I gave shoe-tying lessons. Long and futile minutes working on a tight knot, a strong bunny ear, around the tree and through the hole, until we agreed to try again later and I tied the laces myself. An hour later, I untied them and sent my small son into his classroom for his second day of school, and his latest day of great fortune and abundance.
By the time I got to work, I knew about another little boy whose mother had tied his shoes on a recent day and had perished with him in the Mediterranean. We wouldn’t know about them, except that this little boy washed ashore on a beach in Turkey. His photo, where he lies as if for a nap in his crib, save for his shoes, is haunting minds around the planet. Read More