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Throughout all of this, my parents did not forget my education. Not a formal education but the education that mattered. What to value. What to hold on to. What to let go of. What to fight for and what to discard. Where the traps were.
Apparently we’d been richer than we thought, to suffer such continual diminishment and still be alive.
You forgive if you can forgive yourself, or live with what you’ve done. If you cannot live with what you have done, you cannot live with what others have done, either.
The things we say to each other, thinking they are so important to say, and yet later regret, that become a part of you no matter how hard you push them away, even as you can’t stop thinking about them.
