And that was as far as he got before i heard it. The thumping of footsteps, running up the lawn toward me: It seemed like I could hear it through the grass, like leaning your ear to a railroad track and feeling the train coming, miles away. As the noise got closer I could hear ragged breaths, and then a voice. It was my mother.

I'd seen another shade of him, and if it had been light where we were now, he'd have seen the same of me. So I was grateful, as I had been so often in my life, for the dark.

I was bored. Sad. Lonely. It was only a matter of time before I cracked.

In the end, though, maybe it's not how you reach a place that matters. Just that you get there at all.

Whenever something great happens, you’re always kind of poised for the universe to correct itself.

Some things you don't have to tell. Some things, between sisters, are understood.

Sometimes love can be an ugly thing.