I might have been eleven years old and a little socially immature, but I recognized a gauntlet being thrown down when I saw it, and I had no choice but to take it up.

Everyone has hardship in their life. Everyone has pain.

You stood over me and you made a promise to me, as sacred as any vow. And I can understand why you're angry, but you can't blame me. You can't hate me for taking your word.

There are like twenty people in that waiting room right now. Some of them are related to you. Some of them are not. But we're all your family.' "She stops now. Leans over me so that the wisps of her hair tickle my face. She kisses me on the forehead. 'You still have a family,' she whispers.

You meet people, you part ways, sometimes you cross paths again. Mostly, you don't.

I know that unlike that night, tonight I won't kiss her. Or touch her. Or even see her up close. Tonight, I'll listen. And that'll be enough.

The little things that happen. Sometimes they're insignificant; other times, they change everything.