“I read once that water is a symbol for emotions. And for a while now I've thought maybe my mother drowned in both.”

“Once, I was my mother's daughter. Now I am my daughter's mother.”

“My father said once that if I didn't have my mother's ginger hair, I wouldn't blush or curse as easily. Which I though was unfair. I hardly ever curse or blush, even though I've had plenty of days that required both.”

“I was sinking deeper in and losing my grasp at the surface. I was drowning. Drowning in an emotion I’d never felt before. Never wanted to feel—until now. Something so fresh, so new. Even as I tried to place this emotion to something, it left me feeling bewildered. I needed more. More of this toxic sweetness I couldn’t help but indulge.”

“My brain is like a water faucet that I can turn on or off. Only now there is no off and the water of thoughts just flows.”

“My mother used to talk about passages and, once in a while, about ordeals. We all have them; we are all shaped by them. She thought the key was to find the healing in the hurt.”