It Doesn't Ever Occur To You, As

As My Wise Friend Didi Has More Than Once Observed About Life's Passages, Every Departure Entails An Arrival Elsewhere, Every Arrival Implies A Departure From Afar.

And Then, Into The Fantasy, As Into A Dream, Would Come The Thought: It's Not Like This Anymore; The World Has Changed. Just The Way, Even At That Time Fully Two Years After My Mother's Death, I'd Catch Myself Thinking About Her As Alive; And Would Suddenly Remember, An Admonitory Finger Of Grief Upon My Breast, That She Was Gone.

I Think That One Of The Great Things About Spending - As In My Case - Twenty-something Years With Somebody Is That At Some Point You Do Love The Actual Person. They're There Little By Little, The Outline Is Really Pretty Clear.

We Live In A Culture That Wants To Put A Redemptive Face On Everything, So Anger Doesn't Sit Well With Any Of Us. But I Think Women's Anger Sits Less Well Than Anything Else. Women's Anger Is Very Scary To People, And To No One More Than Other Women Who Think: Oh, Goodness, Well, If I Let The Lid Off, Where Would We Be?

We Read To Find Life, In All Its Possibilities.