Addie, please." More tears dripped down her cheeks. "Don't be so hard." "Oh, please," I muttered...and that was as far as I got. 'You broke my heart' were the words that had risen to my mouth, but I couldn't say them. That was what you said to a boyfriend, a lover, not your best friend. She'd laugh. And I'd had enough of being laughed at. I'd worked hard to get to a place where it didn't happen anymore, where I didn't move through life like a walking target, where it was just me and my paints and brushes and my big empty bed every night. "You weren't a good friend," I said instead.

I have these "pinch me" moments when I realize I got to be the thing I wanted to be growing up. I'm right where I belong.

Things happen, and you can't make them unhappen. You don't get do-overs, you can't roll back the clock, and the only thing you can change, and the only thing it does any good to worry about, is how you let them affect you.

Every mother I've ever met, pretty much without exception, is doing the best job she can ever do.

This is motherhood for you,' said my own mother. 'Going through life with your heart outside your body.

I'm not in charge of my life.

If you put a pink cover on something, critics make a certain set of assumptions and may not even read the book. But my readers are happy with it.