The Women

by Kristin Hannah

Maybe happy now, happy for a moment, is all we really get. Happy forever seems a shitload to ask in a world on fire.

It’s like staring down at a puzzle with one piece missing; it ruins the whole thing.

Maybe that was why people built walls: to look away, to ignore anything they didn’t want to see.

As if grief were a pool you could simply step out of. In reality, it was quicksand and heat. A rough entry, but warm and inviting once you let go.

In this crazy, chaotic, divided world that was run by men, you could count on the women.

We were there.