If you didn't love him, this never would have happened. But you did. And accepting that love and everything that followed it is part of letting it go.

I watched my mother do what she did best, and realized there would never be a way to cut myself from her entirely. No matter how strong or weak I was, she was a part of me, as crucial as my own heart. I would never be strong enough, in all my life, to do without her.

Some things are meant to be broken. Imperfect. Chaotic.

"I thought this was a cookout. You know, dogs and burgers, Tater Tots, ambrosia salad" Dexter picked up a box of Twinkies, tossing them into the cart. "And Twinkies." "It is... Except that it's a cookout thrown by my mother." "And?" "And my mother doesn't cook." He looked at me waiting. "At all. My mother doesn't cook at all." "She must cook sometimes." "Nope." "Everyone can make scrambled eggs, Remy. It's programmed into you at birth, the default setting. Like being able to swim and knowing not to mix pickles with oatmeal. You just KNOW."

If you're not getting hurt, you're not riding hard enough.

But risk is just part of relationships. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't.

You bought me some forks. And knives. And spoons. Because you love me!