My mother used to tell me that when push comes to shove, you always know who to turn to. That being a family isn't a social construct but an instinct.

When it's all over, you're remembered for what you did, not what you said you were going to do.

I wondered what happened when you offered yourself to someone, and they opened you, only to discover you were not the gift they expected and they had to smile and nod and say thank you all the same.

In half hour my mother has managed to give me what my father couldn't: my past.

If it is possible to die of grief then why on earth can't someone be healed by happiness?

They ask, how could this happen here? Well. How could it not happen here?

When you look into your baby’s eyes,” Lacy said softly, “you see everything you hope they can be…not everything you wish they won’t become.