Keepsake (True North, #3)

by Sarina Bowen

Once in a while some well-meaning person in my life would point out that after living the first nineteen years of my life on a dusty property in Wyoming, I still rarely left the farm. But they were wrong. I’d been to Middle Earth and Hogwarts and Dickensian London all in the past month or so. The difference between living on a ranch where books were banned and a farm where books were freely discussed

“Zach,” Lark whispered. The bed moved as she lay down again, too. “Is it egotistical of me to ask whether I’ve ever made it into one of your best dreams?” In Leviticus, it says, “You shall not lie to one another.” The temptation was strong. But I spoke the truth. “They’re all about you.”

I thought I’d die when my tenth-grade biology teacher got engaged.”

Same but chemistry

“Everyone has a time when they need a lot more than they can give. It doesn’t matter how much you hate it. It’s just true.”

“Every time you confront the things that scare you, it’s a step back to feeling like yourself again. Right now it feels like you spend all day talking about your sorrow. But it won’t always feel like that. Every time we stare it in the face, it becomes a little more banal. Pretty soon you’ll bump into your sorrow on the street, and just give it a little wave. It will still be familiar, but not so startling.” “I’m going to kick it in the shins.” “Have at it,” Dr. Becky said with a smile.

Sometimes the end of a stage in your life doesn’t announce itself with trumpets or fireworks. Sometimes it just seeps in, like the smell of snow on the air as fall gives way to winter.