Something good was happening. My life was rising from the ashes, and the sight of it left me feeling something like hopeful.

I like to write about people who are real and likeable. I like to write about people who tell their stories in that close and intimate voice we use with best friends. I love the closeness and honesty and vulnerability that come from characters who can talk that way.

Nobody was perfect. Not even close. And everybody had wrinkles from smiling and squinting and craining their necks. Everybody has marks on their bodies from years of living- a trail of life left on them. Evidence of all the adventures and sleepless nights and practical jokes and heartbreaks that had made them who they are.

It's so easy to think that your strengths don't matter.

Our lives disappear, even as we live them.

Don't let anyone convince you that love doesn't matter.

I guess that's the upside of not being young anymore... You know from experience that the struggle always leads, in some way, to something better.