Sometimes I start a novel

and realize that I am too old,

and the author is too young,

and that I don't have the patience to wade through it,

and I don't.



This has nothing to do with years.

Getting your own way can be a dangerous thing.

Even though the person who gave in may accept and forgive now such incidents can keep coming to their mind and can fester over time.

And someday what seems like a very minor thing can connect with a long train of other small things and lead to unexpected consequences that you may never explain or understand.