No matter how smart she appeared, she was fragile at her core.

My father moved through theys of we, singing each new leaf out of each tree, (and every child was sure that spring danced when she heard my father sing).

There is everything you know and there is everything that happens. When the two do not line up, you make a choice.

Knowing something and understanding it were not the same thing.

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.

You've lived through a lot of wars, I said. "Yes." Do they ever make more sense? "No.

I don't know what it is about food your mother makes for you, especially when it's something that anyone can make - pancakes, meat loaf, tuna salad - but it carries a certain taste of memory.