Once upon a time a small child sat crying. There were so many tears that they pooled into a puddle at her feet. When she was done crying, she looked into the puddle. There she saw the future. And it scared her very much.
This was not helped by the wind that blew ominously at her legs, nor by the black cat that began to prowl before her, yowling in a quiet way that sent shivers up the little girl's spine.
Some might have called these curious coincidences omens.
The little girl didn't have time for omens, she decided. There was cleaning to do and books to read and books to be written and life to be lived. Thus, the little girl grew up.
And when the future came, staring at her without the comfort of a puddle of tears, whatever it was didn't matter so much because she had been living.