“A good chunk of my life had been spent sorting out the scrambled communications, festering hostilities, and frozen affections that characterized families in turmoil. (257)”
“On the frozen tundra, I milked a cow and pumped out ice cream. Strangely, it had chunks of strawberries in it.”
“...my mother took a younger man as a lover. They spent all day in her boudoir, festering in each other's company.”
“In a toxic, festering sort o' way... ”
“My heart goes out to him. Sort of. Because empathy depends on how you've spent your day.”
“Tell me about your family," I said. And so she did. I listened intently as my mother went through each branch of the tree. Years later, after the funeral, Maria had asked me questions about the family - who was related to whom - and I struggled. I couldn't remember. A big chunk of our history had been buried with my mother. You should never let your past disappear that way.”