So now I just assume that it won't work, and that if it does work, I'll lose it anyway. This is meant to protect me, although it doesn't, because somehow the hope sneakily finds its way in. I'm never aware of the hope until it's gone, whooshed away like a rug pulled from under my feet, each time I hear another "I'm sorry.

Happy endings always made her cry. It was the relief.

But maybe every life looked wonderful if all you saw was the photo albums.

Falling in love was easy.anyone could fall. It was holding on that was tricky

Marriage was a form of insanity; love hovering permanently on the edge of aggravation.

It was like she was thinking, How far can I go with this? How much more can I fit in my life without losing control?

I see lots of differences between Australians and Americans - but as mothers, I think were pretty much alike!