“A year could pass be­tween her ask­ing a ques­tion and my an­swer.”

“It's Christ­mas," he whis­pered.His wife smiled up at him, and her an­swer made his throat tighten. "No," she said softly, lay­ing her fin­gers against his jaw. "Christ­mas came three days ago.”

“I'd suffered many losses in recent years after my father mother uncle aunt and cousin had all passed away. In her final years my mother often lamented that there was no one alive who had known her as a girl and I was starting to understand how spooked she'd felt. I wasn't sure I could take any more abandonments. One succumbs so easily to mind spasms, worry spasms. [p. 95]”

“I love family reunions. Maybe next year we could pass out samurai swords.”

“My heart tumbled in pieces at her feet as she chipped away at it with her wondrous ways, and it didn't form a whole again until half a year had passed and the end product was a living, beating organ in the palm of her hands.”

“My mom passed away 3 years ago. Recently, I found her “special” photo album- the one in which she saved her favorite pictures, postcards and memories. Halfway through the album I found a small, wrinkled, slip of paper. When I looked closer, I could see that it was a “re-admittance” slip for me, to get back into school... in the 10th grade! Why would she save that all these years???”