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He had been born under a lucky star—a wealthy star, a healthy star. There were so many layers of protection between him and the things that could hurt you in this world.
“You don’t need Instagram,” Toby said. He set the oven to preheat. “It’s stressful and you’ll have that stuff in your life forever. We’re just trying to preserve a little sanity for you before we can’t anymore.”
The sun rose and the sun set and the calendar pages flew off the wall.
He saw how fleeting it would all be, how quickly the kids went through the different phases, and how once those small things were gone, they never returned.
Can you imagine what it’s like to have arrived where you want to be at such a young age? That was what she never understood: that ambition didn’t always run uphill. Sometimes, when you were happy, it jogged in place.
No matter how many times you whispered your values to them, the thing that spoke louder was what you chose to do with your time and resources.
We aren’t meant to comprehend endings. We aren’t meant to understand death. Death’s whole gig is not being understood.
There were so many ways of being a woman in the world, but all of them still rendered her just a woman, which is to say: a target.
She’d taken her foot off the gas for a minute. But it was not permitted. It was unacceptable. She was unacceptable.
