The truth was, history repeated itself on a daily basis; mistakes were made over and over. People were haunted by what they had done, and by what they hadn't had time to do.

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

Me, I was already jaded and tarnished, skeptical that a fantasy world could keep reality at bay.

Normal, in our house, is like a blanket too short for a bed--sometimes it covers you just fine, and other times it leaves you cold and shaking; and worst of all, you never know which of the two it's going to be.

That's what love is. It's some power greater than you and me, that draws us to one special person

I wondered how long it took for a baby to become yours, for familiarity to set in. Maybe as long as it took a new car to lose that scent, or a brand-new house to gather dust. Maybe that was the process more commonly described as bonding: the act of learning your child as well as you know yourself.

I knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. You didn't get past something like that, you got through it.