As mothers and daughters, we are connected with one another. My mother is the bones of my spine, keeping me straight and true. She is my blood, making sure it runs rich and strong. She is the beating of my heart. I cannot now imagine a life without her.
A daughter without her mother is a woman broken. It is a loss that turns to arthritis and settles deep into her bones.
To make real friends you have to put yourself out there. Sometimes people will let you down, but you can’t let that stop you. If you get hurt, you just pick yourself up, dust off your feelings, and try again.
That was what a best friend did: hold up a mirror and show you your heart.
Sometimes being a good friend means saying nothing.
Maybe time didn’t heal wounds exactly, but it gave you a kind of armor, or a new perspective. A way to remember with a smile instead of a sob.
One thing I can tell you for sure is this: we only regret what we don’t do in life.
Drama, she’d learned, was like good punctuation: it underscored your point.
Walk. Run. Ride.
Rain Valley newcomers pretty much fell into two groups: people running away from something and people running away from everything.
Tragedy was like that, a razor that sliced through time, severing the now from the before, incising the what-might-have-been from reality as cleanly as any surgeon’s blade.
She was touching his body with her tongue, and he felt it there, but somehow what she was doing went deeper. As if that gentle, moist tongue of hers were flicking his heart as well.
For the first time in his life, he was going to be a goddamn hero.
Those are exactly the kind of memories I try to avoid, but they’re like abestos: invisible and deadly. You need special gear to get rid of them.