Making Faces

by Amy Harmon

“You just need to acknowledge it. Face the shit.” Bailey’s voice grew stronger, strident even. “Accept the truth in it. Own it, wallow in it, become one with the shit.”

If God makes all our faces, did he laugh when he made me? Does he make the legs that cannot walk and eyes that cannot see?

“Maybe everyone represents a piece of the puzzle. We all fit together to create this experience we call life. None of us can see the part we play or the way it all turns out. Maybe the miracles that we see are just the tip of the iceberg. And maybe we just don’t recognize the blessings that come as a result of terrible things.”

Books allow you to be whoever you want to be, to escape yourself for a while.

“Think about it. There isn’t heartache if there hasn’t been joy. I wouldn’t feel loss if there hadn’t been love. You couldn’t take my pain away without removing Bailey from my heart. I would rather have this pain now than never have known him. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.”

“True beauty, the kind that doesn’t fade or wash off, takes time. It takes pressure. It takes incredible endurance. It is the slow drip that makes the stalactite, the shaking of the Earth that creates mountains, the constant pounding of the waves that breaks up the rocks and smooths the rough edges. And from the violence, the furor, the raging of the winds, the roaring of the waters, something better emerges, something that would otherwise never exist.