call it crazy, or just chicken salad. But within reason, or without it i was in it too.

Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together.

She took the sun when it came and the rain the same way.

In my group of friends, I was always the one who remembered everything. The stories, the boys my friends and I dated, all the details. So I think a part of me was always filing them away, although at the time I wasn't sure why.

The further you go, the more you have to be proud of. At the same time, in order to come a long way, you have to be behind to begin with. IN the end, though maybe it's not how you reach a place that matters. Just that you get there at all.

But all the love in the world won't save a sinking ship. You have to either bail or jump overboard.

Morris was not the type to offer a hug or even hold your hand. But there was something in his quiet indignation at the universe then--and Luke, now--that was just the kind of comfort I needed. "I'm such a mess," I said. "We're almost off the island and I didn't even ask you where you were going." He shrugged. "No place. Wherever you are.