The seasons tell us, everything in organic life tells us, that there is no holding on; still, we try to do just that. Sometimes, though, we learn the kind of wisdom that celebrates the open hand.

My inside self and my outside self used to match. A compass needle pointed true north. Now the needle spins around and around indicating the sad direction of nowhere.

You feel the call. That's the important thing. Now answer it as fully as you can. Take the risk to let all that is in you, out. Escape into the open.

Just one look and then I knew that all I longed for long ago was you

No one wants to mother more vigilantly than a woman who is childless and wishes she wasn’t.

I felt myself trapped in line for a ride I was not nearly ready for, looking back but moving forward in the only direction I could go.

Now, on this road trip, my mind seemed to uncrinkle, to breathe, to present to itself a cure for a disease it had not, until now, known it had.