As far as I was concerned, we'd come to a draw: I hadn't wanted to come, and she didn't want me to leave. We were even. But I knew my mother wouldn't see it that way. Lately, we didn't seem to see anything the same.

I write thank-you notes the minute I throw the wrapping paper away.

In a way, I was almost happy to see her. The worst part of me, out in the flesh. Blinking back at me in the dim light, daring me to call her a name other than my own.

That was the thing. You just never knew. Forever was so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about.

Anyone can hide. Facing up to things, working through them, that's what makes you strong.

With love like that, you can't get pick about how it finds you or the details. All that matters is that it's there. Better late than never.

Editing is hard but nowhere NEAR as tough as facing that blank page and blinking cursor each day. You're all alone and no one else can do it. At least with editing you have someone in the trench with you.