Many people believe that evil is the presence of something. I think it's the absence of something.

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.

Love accepts. Forgiveness comes in time.

In the end, I cared about him so much that I just thought he deserved someone who loved him more than I did.

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.

When you're young it's easy to confuse passion for love.

Motherhood was an ever widening circle of good-byes.