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“Normally, time just flows along, and you might not pay any more attention to it than you would strangers on the street. A ritual makes you stop and notice. It says, look, you’re growing up, or older, or into something. It turns that moment into something you carry with you forever, when otherwise it could have just drifted away.”
It could make you rigid. She could see it—the crease between her eyebrows, the contraction at the corner of her eyes and mouth, as if the skin itself was straining to hold in all those details. She wasn’t sure why there were so many, but every time she had convinced herself not to worry, Al would go and forget something.
drifting about the kitchen like lazy underwater creatures, and it was all she could do not to grab the plates right out of their hands. If only they had let her, she could have had it all done in five minutes. Without breakage.
You just didn’t know what was going on in people’s houses. Or heads, Abby thought.
“She was a pilot,” Isabelle had commented. Al shook his head, puzzled. “Well, in any case, she flew.”
And with that, Al couldn’t argue.
