A long time ago, Anne used to talk about energy - how that was all that love was - ions connecting across synapses of time and air. Don't rationalize, she'd say. None of it will ever make sense. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, not wanting to cry. Anne was right. None of it made any sense.

Time comes to us softly, slowly. It sits beside us for a while. Then, long before we are ready, it moves on.

Mama says it's okay to be on the quiet side—if quiet means you're listening, watching, taking it all in.

I don't know how women stop being friends with other women.

I pay a lot of attention to whitespace. I pay a lot of attention to the rhythm of words together.

Fifteen. Sixteen was probably something, but fifteen - fifteen was a place between here and nowhere.

You're a part of me...You're in my heart. Forever and always, all right? —D