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

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

The shadow of years was not as big on his small body. He knew I was away . But when people left they always came back.

He would find his Susie,inside his young son. Give that love to the living.

It was Buckley, as my father and sister joined the group and listened to Grandma Lynn’s countless toasts, who saw me. He saw me standing under the rustic colonial clock and stared. He was drinking champagne. There were strings coming out from all around me, reaching out, waving in the air. Someone passed him a brownie. He held it in his hand but did not eat. He saw my shape and face, which had not changed-the hair still parted down the middle, the chest still flat and hips undeveloped-and wanted to call out my name. It was only a moment, and then I was gone.

You could not be filled with hate and be beautiful. Like any other girl, I wanted to be beautiful. But I was filled with hate.

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