Beautiful golden Cynthia, the minister's daughter, singing Byrds songs, guiding me with kindness.
Distinct moral and intellectual universes. Where we had books in common, but she lived by peace and generosity, while I lived by rebellion.
In time my life evolved into a mashup of our qualities. Her peace and generosity, my rebellion, where now the reading we have in common is scripture, and the outcome is socialism.
What are the odds I had an impact on her? Ha! Exactly zero.