“I didn’t want to care, but somehow, like always, I did. She was wired into my heart. Twisted and kinked and threaded right through.”
“She was wired into my heart. Twisted and kinked and threaded right through.”
“Your twisting is done--you have the last thread of my heart. I wonder: when the thread grows slack, will you feel it?”
“My days had a pleasant identicalness about them. I had always liked that: I liked routine. I liked being bored. I didn’t want to but I did.”
“I had always liked that: I liked routine. I liked being bored. I didn’t want to, but I did.”
“My brothers nodded their heads in unison. All of them but me. It wasn’t okay. I didn’t want her to leave. I didn’t care if Jesus wanted her or not. She was my mommy. He could take an old mommy. One that didn’t have little boys to take care of.”