It's not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. I can't tell my children to reach for the sun. All I can do is reach for it, myself.

When I was 12 years old, I read Nancy Drew mysteries and biographies of Madame Curie and Florence Nightingale and books about girls who love horses or go to nursing school. I belonged to the Girl Scouts and got A's in school and rarely disobeyed my parents. I still kept a collection of Barbie dolls in my room, and I almost never spoke to boys.

No, I said. I didn't remember that. There was so much to remember, sometimes the best thing was to forget.

She felt everything too deeply, it was like the world was too much for her.

There is a theme that runs through my work, and that is: the toxic property of keeping secrets.

If I told you about all the stories I don't tell, I would be violating the very boundaries I set for myself.

To share our stories is not only a worthwhile endeavor for the storyteller, but for those who hear our stories and feel less alone because of it.