For years I wrote in my basement. More recently I graduated to one floor above, an office with all my books and music and - ta da! - a window.

Sacrifice is a part of life. It’s supposed to be. It’s not something to regret. It’s something to aspire to. Little sacrifices. Big sacrifices. A mother works so her son can go to school. A daughter moves home to take care of her sick father.

Please do not leave me, he thought. He could not bear a world without Alli. He realized how much he relied on her from morning until night. She was his only conversation. His only smile. She prepared their meager food and always offered it to him first, even though he insisted she eat before he did. THey leaned on each other at sunsets. Holding her as they slept felt like his last connection to humanity.

It is never too late or too soon. It is when it is supposed to be.

Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else.

Sacrifice is a part of life. It's supposed to be. It's not something to regret. It's something to aspire to.

But fates are connected in ways we don’t understand.