Friends of mine suffered the terrible loss of their daughter over the weekend. Their youngest grew up with my youngest and, though the two girls were not close, I watched this lovely little girl turn into a beautiful young woman over the years.
She was always a very talented soul—-and as wild as she was talented. I find that often the two go hand in hand. She liked living life on the edge. And, though recently she had become more settled, now, at nineteen, she’s gone.
Which leaves me wondering:
Do wild children live there lives as such, trying to experience as much as possible, because on some level, they know their time is short?
Or, do they die young because of it?
I’m hoping it’s the former.