How do you know when an apology is true—when it means something, or can change something, or will last outside the moment?

Here’s another change I’ve noticed: The dark is more than the sun dropping off, more than the moon and the stars. It’s what you can’t see that you hope you will see, what hasn’t been that might be.

Throughout our lives friends enclose us like pairs of parentheses. They shift our boundaries; crater our terrain. They fume through the cracks of our tentative houses and parts of them always remain. Friendship asks the truth and wants the truth, hollows and fills, ages with us, and we through it. It cradles us like family. It is ecology and mystery and language - all three. Our grown-up friendships - especially the really meaningful ones- model for our children what we want them to have throughout their lives.

Nature is not the number-one mystery, I’ve learned. It’s the heart that takes top honors.

We grow too old to lose old friends.

Forgiveness, which is the place that every story turns, the chance we give each other.

How do you know when an apology is true—when it means something, or can change something, or will last outside the moment?