Winter Garden

by Kristin Hannah

He was her level ground, her North Star.

You know what to do. Tell them you love them.

minutiae

Every choice changed the road you were on and it was too easy to end up going in the wrong direction.

“I’m an insomniac lately. It’s one of the many prizes you find in the Cracker Jack box of a crumbling marriage. I’m always exhausted and I never sleep. So why were you tossing and turning?”

“You have wings.” “Huh?” “Maybe I’m like some ostrich or dodo bird. I stayed on the ground so long, I lost the ability to fly.”

She, who is so low on the roster, finds herself actually holding a first edition of Anna Karenina. The pages have an unexpected weight, and she closes her eyes for just a moment. In the darkness she sees Anna, dressed in jewels and furs, running across the snow to Count Vronsky.

Could you imagine

“To those who are here, those who are gone, and those who are lost.” She clinked her glass against Mom’s.

I’m not crying your crying

You couldn’t control the direction of your family any more than you could stop the continental shelf from breaking apart. All you could do was hold on for the ride.

life—and love—can be gone any second. When you had it, you needed to hang on with all your strength and savor every second.