You [meaning mothers] said good-bye a little every day -- from the minute they left your body until they left your home.

you cannot hope for change in others, you can only work toward it in yourself. And that's hard work.

A child who's been injured by a parent waits her whole life for some acknowledgment of the wrong that's been done, some validation from him that her pain is real, that he's sorry and will make amends. The child will wait forever, unable to move forward, unable to forgive, without someone to acknowledge the past. In that powerlessness comes a terrible rage.

Hope is good. Without it, well, you do the math. But hope has to be like a prayer. Putting it out there to something more powerful than yourself.

Denial: my family heritage. If you don't ask the questions, the truth will never inconvenience you.

Judgment is such a useful shield, isn't it? We can hide behind it, rise above others on its crest, keep ourselves safe and separate.

Motherhood was an ever widening circle of good-byes.