A Spool of Blue Thread

by Anne Tyler

But still, you know how it is when you’re missing a loved one. You try to turn every stranger into the person you were hoping for.

You hear a certain piece of music and right away you tell yourself that he could have changed his clothing style, could have gained a ton of weight, could have acquired a car and then parked that car in front of another family’s house.

But then you hear how pathetic you sound, and your words trail off into silence...

The disappointments seemed to escape the family’s notice, though. That was another of their quirks: they had a talent for pretending that everything was fine.

the Whitshanks were not remarkable in any way whatsoever.

One thing that parents of problem children never said aloud: it was a relief when the children turned out okay, but then what were the parents supposed to do with the anger they’d felt all those years?

For years, she had been in mourning for the way she had let her life slip through her fingers.

“It makes you wonder why we bother accumulating, accumulating, when we know from earliest childhood how it’s all going to end.”

If it was true, Abby thought, that she represented a recurring figure in Mrs. Whitshank’s life—the “sympathizer”—it was equally true that Mrs. Whitshank’s type had shown up before in Abby’s life: the instructive older woman.