When my precocious five-year-old prophesied that she’d one day marry a prince, have a big wedding, and become a nice mommy with lots of children, I smiled. I was moved by the purity of her hope, but then unexpected happened–I began to weep. Every tear unearthed memories of my own age of innocence, when I too believed that my life would unfold with such accuracy and simplicity.  Somewhere along the road I had left behind the little girl... > Full Story