Grief is what tells you who you are alone.

What do you do when the story changes in midlife? When a tale you have told yourself turns out to be a little untrue, just enough to throw the world off-kilter? It’s like leaving the train at the wrong stop: You are still you, but in a new place, there by accident or grace, and you will need your wits about you to proceed.

Old dogs can be a regal sight. Their exuberance settles over the years into a seasoned nobility, their routines become as locked into yours as the quietest and kindest of marriages.

Grief is what tells you who you are alone.

I'd confused need with love and love with sacrifice.

My idea of a productive day, as both a child and an adult, was reading for hours and staring out the window.

Scratch a fantasy and you'll find a nightmare.