Stones and bones; snow and frost; seeds and beans and polliwogs. Paths and twigs, assorted kisses, We all know who Daddy misses! His two little frogs of girls, that’s who. They know where they are, do you, do you?

Nothing is ever certain.

I have never been shy about listening to the input of others and weighing it seriously.

Who would have thought something that happened that long ago could have such power?

As she brought prospective buyers through, the realtor said it was an oil stain, but it was me, seeping out of the bag.

Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain.

He had a moment of clarity about how life should be lived: not as a child or as a woman. They were the two worst things to be.