It's quiet for a while, and then Rowan says; "We could talk now. We're alone out here. No walls." "There are always walls." I say.

Home?' I say. It's a word that can mean anywhere and nowhere.

Times like this, when she slips her hand into mine and holds on tight, and our husband becomes just a shadow in the doorway.

Sometimes we don't know how afraid we are until we've reached a strange door and we don't know what will be on the other side.

There’s a limit to how much living can be done in a life without freedom.

There's nothing here to say good-bye to. There's no dancing girl. No mischievous smile. She's gone, off with her sisters, broken free, escaped. And if she were here now, she would say, "Go.

We writers are resilient souls.