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Teddy grinned again. “Truths are dangerous,” he said. “Then why are you writing them in a book?” “To catch them between the pages,” said Teddy, “and trap them before they disappear.” “If they’re dangerous, why not let them disappear?” “Because when truths disappear, they leave behind blank spaces, and that is also dangerous.”
“It is not the job of a child to protect her mother. It’s the mother’s job to protect the child. By allowing your mother to protect you, you gave her a gift.
“But that’s how memory works,” Bitterblue said quietly. “Things disappear without your permission, then come back again without your permission.” And sometimes they came back incomplete and warped.
She breathed it deeply, waking her lungs with it, feeling that she’d been taking shallow breaths for years.
Every configuration of people is an entirely new universe unto itself.”
And Bitterblue was lit up inside, just a little bit, with the magic of knowing she’d done a small thing right. Oh, to feel that way more often.
For Saf reminded her of trust, of her capacity for comfort, her willingness to be loved. So that afterwards, when the pain came rushing back again, fresh and relentless, she had the strength to bear it, and a friend to hold her while she sobbed.
She was larger than the feelings, she held the feelings in an embrace, and murmured kindnesses to them and comforted them.
