They would think she was savoring the taste (blueberries, cinnamon, cream-excellent), but she was actually savoring the whole morning, trying to catch it, pin it down, keep it safe before all those precious moments became yet another memory.

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

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.

Just because a marriage ended didn't mean that it hadn't been happy at times.

If parents had children who were good sleepers, they assumed this was due to their good parenting, not good luck.

She longed to feel something momentous. Sometimes her life seemed so little.

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