As I wrote “The Book of Esther’, where four generations of women come together to solve a family mystery, I paid special attention to the differences between those generations. Esther’s life was very different, her choices were different, than those of her granddaughter, Ivy.
This had come very much to light this week as the small town I live in suffered a tragedy. A young woman was killed by her husband. Immediately, people are thinking, how did I know her, did I know the monster she was married to, could I have done something, is there something I can do now? This is the beauty of life in a small town. The most pressing question now – who will raise her young son and what scars will he be left to bare?
Yes, times have changed, but something like this tells me that some things don’t. God speed, Dawn.