It was easy to idealize someone you barely knew.

It hadn't been so long ago, yet sometimes she felt that she'd been an altogether different person back then.

She'd always believed that people come in two varieties: those who look out the windshield and those who stare in the rearview mirror. She'd always been the windshield type: gotta focus on the future, not the past, because that's the only part that's still up for grabs. Mom throws me out? Gotta get some food and find a place to live. Husband dies? Gotta keep working, or I'll end up going crazy. Got some guy stalking me? Gotta figure out a way to stop it.

When you fall in love, love deeply. Be tough but also be open to the possibility of forgiveness.

Part of me aches at the thought of her being so close yet so untouchable.

Knowing there's one thing I still haven't told you: I now believe, by the way, that miracles can happen.

I have certain moral parameters that I do not cross in writing; I don't write about adultery or kids having premarital sex.