“You're carrying so much excess baggage,” a therapist she saw only once had told her. He was employing the expensive sifting-of-tea-leaves voice that she holds with utmost contempt.“Baggage?” Julia had repeated. She stood up. “Like I'm dragging bundles of old clothes? I'm carrying artifacts that breathe fire. I'm talking about a language of smoke. These are three-dimensional creatures that can mate. I'd no more leave them go by the side of the trail than I would my child. I'll carry them until someone amputates my arms.”

“I have more baggage than baggage claim. I'm damaged goods. I'm not good at...” she released him for a moment and fingered between the two of them “this.” “Well, I think you're dancing just fine, Miss Gerhart.” he smirked. He knew that was not what she meant, but he had hoped to lighten their mood. Maybe if he could get her to relax she would give him a chance.”

“I'll take these," Danny said, reaching for the bouquet. Just as Kevin was holding them out – and still trying to keep the chocolates from slipping out from under his arm – a flash went off."I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Danny's mother apologized, "I just HAD to! It's so CUTE! I'll be going now. I'm going to… clean up the kitchen. I'm sorry! You boys carry on!" she retreated backwards down the hallway, camera still in hand. They could still hear her as she turned the corner, "So CUTE! Oh my GAWD!"Danny said sheepishly, "Sorry about that.""Dude... Your mother is...""You have no idea. Uhm, I'll take care of these. Maybe you'd better head on up to my room. Like, before she comes back…”

“When she looked at him now, she couldn't help thinking that the man he had become bore so little resemblance to the boy he had been. His smile was the only piece of baggage he had carried with him from boyhood into manhood.”

“There's that, too, but more than that, what people are sayingabout me right now, it's not really about me, it's about them. It's notmy baggage to carry. Why should I want to shoulder everybody else'sburdens and beat myself up over their problems? I'm not that bighearted.”

“She carried a scabbedover wound on her hip where her mate had bitten her two weeks before somewhere in the mountains of Sonora. He’d bitten her because she would not leave him. Standing with one forefoot in the jaws of a steeltrap and snarling at her to drive her off where she lay just beyond the reach of the chain. She’d flattened her ears and whined and she would not leave. In the morning they came on horses. She watched from a slope a hundred yards away as he stood up to meet them.”