Sometimes good choices are really bad ones, wrapped up in so much fear you can't even see straight.

I began to learn the importance of lifting things up and looking underneath.

So I put up with bad behavior in the name of loving the way I thought you were supposed to love.

Love with someone else, an actual person, was another matter. People got hurt doing that. People cried and wrapped their arms around themselves and rocked with loss. Loving words got turned to fierce, sharp, whip-cracks of anger that lefft permanent marks. At the least, it disappointed you. At most, it damaged you.

Family was even a bigger word than I imagined, wide and without limitations, if you allowed it, defying easy definition. You had family that was supposed to be family and wasn't, family that wasn't family but was, halves becoming whole, wholes splitting into two; it was possible to lack whole, honest love and connection from family in lead roles, yet to be filled to abundance by the unexpected supporting players.

We should not give away a moment to anyone who does not deserve it.

I would have spoken, had my heart not been in my throat