Angela had done a marvelous job, I tell you. The puke was everywhere except the toilet. The walls, the floor, the sinks - even on the ceiling, though don't ask me how she did that. So there I was, perched on all fours, cleaning up the puke at the homecoming dance in my best blue suit, which was exactly what I had wanted to avoid in the first place. And Jamie, my date, was on all fours, too, doing exactly the same thing.

Truth only means something when it's hard to admit.

I've been thinking about you constantly since I left, wondering why the journey I'm on seemed to have led through you. I know my journey's not over yet, and that life is a winding path, but I can only hope it somehow circles back to the place I belong. That's how I think of it now. I belong with you.

I think that enduring, committed love between a married couple, along with raising children, is the most noble act anyone can aspire to. It is not written about very much.

In another time and place, she might have felt differently, but thinking along those lines was pointless now.

"I guess I'm okay with that. But it's not going to be easy for you. They don't have a lot of fishing or mudding around here." "I figured." "And not a lot of beach volleyball, either. Especially in January." "I guess I'll have to make some sacrifices." "Maybe if you're lucky, we can find you some other ways to occupy your time."

It's probably not going to lead to anything. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try. If everyone who thought they might fail didn't even try, where would we be today?