No matter where I was, my compass pointed west. I would always know what time it was in California.

Panic was the worst thing. When you panicked, you couldn't see possibilities. Then came despair.

I'm always looking for something new and interesting to say. And it can't be something I'm directly experiencing.

A cliche is everything you've ever heard of.

I felt suddenly cruel, like I´d told dmall children there was no tooth fairy, that it was just their Mom sneaking into their room after they went to bed.

The Santa Anas blew in hot from the desert, shriveling the last of the spring grass into whiskers of pale straw. Only the oleanders thrived, their delicate poisonous blooms, their dagger green leaves. We could not sleep in the hot dry nights, my mother and I.

How right that the body changed over time, becoming a gallery of scars, a canvas of experience, a testament to life and one's capacity to endure it.