Her Name in the Sky

by Kelly Quindlen

Still, she pushes it down inside of her, buries it as far as it can go, suffocates it in the space between her stomach and her heart. She tells herself that she is stronger, that she can fight it, that she has control. That no one has to know.

It feels like her sadness will stay with her forever. The future, a vague notion that at one time felt very exciting to her because it contained only possibilities, now seems like a prison sentence, a condemnation. For now that she understands the yearnings of her heart, what is she supposed to do?

Or fuck it all and fight to be with her. Take her to the movies and buy her her favorite candy when she goes to the restroom before the show. Find a house with her in a safe part of town and fill it with animals and books. Stay in on Friday nights and fall asleep on the couch watching Netflix with their bodies lined up next to each other under the blanket. Learn each other’s secrets. Love each other’s faults. Promise her the world. But give up the traditional church wedding. Give up the possibility of children who are a perfect half of each of them. Find a different church, or sit in the very back pew where fewer people will see the electricity between them when they hold hands during the “Our Father,” or forgo church all together.

She looks at the stars and wonders why God made them so good, so brilliant, but made her so wrong and broken.

I think humanity, at the moment—I think we’re trapping ourselves in the story of Adam and Eve. That we’re getting too caught up in the specifics and forgetting the larger meaning of the story.”

Do you ever think about how crazy that is?—Our miraculous capacity to love? We don't know why, we don’t know how, but our hearts and souls are drawn to others. We weren’t made to be alone. We were made to love. And when we love, we automatically know God without even trying to, because God is love. If we love as he made us to love—if we love with our hearts instead of our criteria—then we simply are love.”