This is the autumn of wonders, yet every day, every single day, I go back to that burned afternoon in August when T. Ray left. I go back to that one moment when I stood in the driveway with small rocks and clumps of dirt around my feet and looked back at the porch. And there they were. All these mothers. I have more mothers than any eight girls off the street. They are the moons shining over me.

How often do we do that, he wondered--look at someone and fail to see what's really there?

Honeybees depend not only on physical contact with the colony, but also require it's social companionship and support. Isolate a honeybee from her sisters and she will soon die.

It's something everybody wants-for someone to see the hurt done to them and set it down like it matters.

Nothing is fair in this world. You might as well get that straight right now

We write to taste life twice," Anais Nin wrote, "in the moment and in retrospection.

You think you want to know something, and then once you do, all you can think about is erasing it from your mind.