One afternoon my daughter， Lisa， and I were going<br >through our collection of family snapshots. There was one<br >Milt had taken of me before we were married. I looked at<br >that long-ago girl， smiling at the man she loved， and<br >thought， "Oh， if I could only start all over again knowing<br >what I know now. If only I had a second chance . ~ ." At<br >that moment I was sorry I did not believe in reincarnation.<br >It must be very comforting to feel that one has many more<br >lives ahead in which to act upon the wisdom that it takes<br >us so long to acquire.<br > That picture， taken over a quarter of a century ago，<br >reminded me of that bitter quip about youth being too<br >precious to waste on the young. It is right. It really is.<br > That evening I told Milt， "Don t laugh， but I think I<br >started being middle-aged today. My butterfly years are<br >over."<br > He did laugh.<br > "Forget it，" he said. "Middle age is a thing of the past.<br > Your butterfly years are still ahead. You are just emerging<br > from your cocoon， dear. It takes a lot of living to produce a<br > butterfly."<br > I smiled and said， "I hope you re right." It was just<br > Milt s way of being reassuring， or so I thought， and of<br >
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