In Each Man's Heart There Lies A

There Were Two Now Where They Had Been Three. David's Death Had Dismantled The Triangle, And An Enclosed Space Was Now Open. Two Points Are Unreliable; With Nothing To Anchor Them, There Is Nothing To Stop Them Drifting In Opposite Directions. If It Is String That Binds, It Will Eventually Snap And The Points Will Separate; If Elastic, They Will Continue To Part, Further And Further, Until The Strain Reaches Its Limit And They Are Pulled Back With Such Speed That They Cannot Help But Collide With Devastating Force.

It's Special, Grandparents And Grandchldren. So Much Simpler. Is It Always So, I Wonder? I Think Perhaps It Is. While One's Child Takes A Part Of One's Heart To Use And Misuse As They Please, A Grandchild Is Different. Gone Are The Bonds Of Guilt And Responsibility That Burden The Maternal Relationship. The Way To Love Is Free.

Time Had A Way Of Moulding People Into Shapes They Themselves No Longer Recognised.

It's A Funny Thing, Character, The Way It Brands People As They Age, Rising From Within To Leave Its Scar.

. . . Companions Were To Be Valued, Wherever One Found Them.