“NOW, MY CHILDREN,” said Old Turtle, her voice as gentle as the breeze among the blossoms, “there is one more question you have not asked, perhaps the most important one of all. It is a question asked by every dawn—a question of the rising sun and of the light that fills the world. It is whispered by the first morning
IT WAS 30 YEARS AGO that a first-time author (me) with a small, regional publisher that had never published a children’s book, and an artist who had never illustrated a book, began to make a mark. OLD TURTLE went on to sell over 1.5 million copies, to be translated and published into other languages, and to win many awards—including the
AS WE WALK the path of life, we reach a point where some—perhaps many—of those who have walked with us are no longer there beside us. Anxiety, grief, and loss, we learn, are as much a part of this mortal journey as are joy and laughter. Death has touched me recently—again—and I will be saying goodbye to an old friend