Maybe staying on the surface keeps her from returning to a place where she can't breathe.

Maybe the impossible is possible when you take everything else away.

Do certain events in our lives leave a permanent mark, freezing a piece of us in time, and that becomes a touchstone that we measure the rest of our lives against?

I suppose you're right about some perspectives. Just a few weeks ago, I thought you were a dickhead.

My timing is off. But I had to get it out. Some things you have to tell, no matter how stupid they may sound. Some things you can't save for later. There might not be a later.

Pieces. A bit for someone here. A bit there. And sometimes they don't add up to anything whole. But you are so busy dancing. Delivering. You don't have time to notice. Or are afraid to notice. And then one day you have to look. And it's true. All of your pieces fill up other people's holes. But they don't fill your own.

Father says it will come in time. “Time heals,” he says. I don’t tell him that I don’t know what time is.