What good did it do to light the world on fire if she had to watch the glow alone?

We can't live other people's lives for them. Even if we love them.

Real friends. The kind that don't purposely hurt your feelings or stop liking you for no reason.

Sometimes you simply made the wrong choice and you had to live with it. You could only change the future.

It was the Magic Hour, the moment in time when every leaf and blade of grass seemed to separate, when sunlight, burnished by the rain and softened by the coming night, gave the world an impossibly beautiful glow.

It was true; always had been. Friendships were like marriages in that way. Routines and patterns were poured early and hardened like cement.

Whenever I write about motherhood - and I write about it a lot - I am drawing on my experiences as a mother and also my experiences as a daughter.