“In the dresser mirror, my face looks the same, but I feel something happening around me, some change as palpable as weather. Stuck in the mirror are mementos from my childhood—red and yellow ribbons for various underachievements, a brown corsage from grad school graduation, a curling and faded picture of me petting a deer in Wisconsin—which is now over. I wandered through it and came out the other side. It’s a stark feeling. Like getting to the last page of a book and seeing ‘The End.’ Even if you didn’t like the story that much, or your childhood, you read it, you lived it. And now it’s over, book closed, that long-ago deer you petted in the Dells as dead as the one in The Yearling.”

“Those other moments that I’ve been re-retuning to seem to fade a bit every time I go to them. It’s kind of like reading the same book over and over. You keep trying to capture what you felt when you first read it, but the feelings just aren’t ever as…magical.”

“You told me once, long ago, to look into a mirror and see your face. I refused to then. But now Mnimi has forced me to look at my own reflection. I’ve seen it through my eyes and I’ve seen it through yours. I wish to the gods that I could change what happened between us. If I could go back, I would never deny you. But I can’t. We both know that. Now I just want the chance to know you as I should have known you all those centuries ago. (Styxx)”

“Being on that pitcher’s mound, it’s the one thing I’m really good at. The one thing I haven’t fucked up. And when I’m on the field, everything else fades away. You know?” He turned to look at me, his eyes craving understanding. I smiled and he continued. “It’s like my mind is clear when I’m out there. It’s not about my mom or my dad or the stupid shit I’ve done. It’s about me, the ball, and the batter. It’s the one place in the world where I feel like I’m in control. Like I have a say in what happens around me.”I stopped my head from nodding in agreement once I realized that I was doing it. “I feel that way when I’m taking pictures. Anything that I’m not seeing through my lens fades away in the background. And I get to frame my picture any way I choose. I get to dictate how it looks. What’s in it. What isn’t. Behind that lens I have complete control in how things are seen.”He smiled, his dimples indenting his cheeks. “You get it.”

“Now for me, you're the irreplaceable one: I've never see you up so close before, and I do not understand you at all. You say sometimes I act like I don't see you? I don't even know where to look! Living with you around is like is like living with a permanent dazzle. The fact that you even like me, or look at me, or brush by me, or hug me, or hold me, is so surprising that after it's over I have to go back through it a dozen times in my head to savor it and try and figure out what it was like because I was too busy being astounded while it was happening.”

“The baby explodes into an unknown world that is only knowable through some kind of a story – of course that is how we all live, it’s the narrative of our lives, but adoption drops you into the story after it has started. It’s like reading a book with the first few pages missing. It’s like arriving after curtain up. The feeling that something is missing never, ever leaves you – and it can’t, and it shouldn’t, because something is missing.”