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But that’s a funeral for you; every lost life of your brief existence washes over you anew, with a fresh wave of loss added to that terrible sea of grief.
It is so easy to go through your days stewing about someone stealing your parking spot without giving the same attention to your child’s arms around your neck, to grumble about the ever-increasing cost of groceries without realizing just how good it is to have warm toast and a fresh cup of coffee while sitting across from the one you love.
A book, too, can be a star . . . a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.”
A miracle is the first time you touch your child’s downy skin; it is every time you hear her laughter. It is a mouth you love upon your own; it is the life you purposefully forge with another person.)
