The hill opposite

How do you console your own child when she has a broken heart?   I asked myself this over and over again last night while she cried down the phone line form over a thousand miles away.  It was a hard one, requiring an emotional energy I had to muster from a pretty empty vessel late at night.  

They say you're as happy as your unhappiest child, which made me a rather unhappy (and tired) person today.  So I took myself up to the hill I can see from my desk in the moulin and sat for a while in the shade of an oak wood at the top, contemplating broken hearts and how to heal them.