Before We Were Yours

by Lisa Wingate

In my multifold years of life, I have learned that most people get along as best they can. They don’t intend to hurt anyone. It is merely a terrible by-product of surviving.

Every available avenue is paved with guilt, lined with pain, and pockmarked with shame.

One of the best things a father can do for his daughter is let her know that she has met his expectations.

Grief and a change of location can often be more than the mind and body can handle.”

Do we carry the guilt from the sins of past generations? If so, can we bear the weight of that burden?

It’s funny how what you’re used to seems like it’s right even if it’s bad.

Life is not unlike cinema. Each scene has its own music, and the music is created for the scene, woven to it in ways we do not understand. No matter how much we may love the melody of a bygone day or imagine the song of a future one, we must dance within the music of today, or we will always be out of step, stumbling around in something that doesn’t suit the moment.

This music of old age…it isn’t made for dancing. It’s so…lonely. You’re a burden to everyone.”

“A woman’s past need not predict her future. She can dance to new music if she chooses. Her own music. To hear the tune, she must only stop talking. To herself, I mean. We’re always trying to persuade ourselves of things.”

But the love of sisters needs no words. It does not depend on memories, or mementos, or proof. It runs as deep as a heartbeat. It is as ever present as a pulse.