When we fall madly in love, sacrifices
don’t matter.
Flying home from Atlanta one evening, I
sat next to a young woman who was impeccably groomed, except for the
streaks on her cheeks were tears had removed some of her soft red
blush.
My heart went out to her, but my head
said, None of your business, Liz. Don’t interfere.
As usual, I ignored my head and went
with my heart. “What brings you to Louisville?” I asked softly.
She turned, and a fresh flow of tears
began as she moaned, “I don’t know!”