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She had said she needed mountains around her; she liked how they softened the meeting between the land and the sky.
The thing about old girlfriends, Micah reflected, is that each one subtracts something from you. You say goodbye to your first great romance and move on to the next, but you find you have less to give to the next. A little chip of you has gone missing; you’re not quite so wholly there in the new relationship. And less there in the one after that, and even less in the one after that one.
I’m just
saying, when you grow up in that kind of chaos you vow to do things differently once you’re on your own.”
He momentarily mistook the hydrant for a redhead and gave his usual shake of the shoulders at how repetitious this thought was, how repetitious all his thoughts were, how they ran in a deep rut and how his entire life ran in a rut, really.
Under the surface, he thought, maybe he was
more like his family than he cared to admit. Maybe he was one skipped vacuuming day away from total chaos.
“Sometimes,” she said musingly, “you can think back on your life and almost believe it was laid out for you in advance, like this plain clear path you were destined to take even if it looked like nothing but brambles and stobs at the time.
He has noticed that his faulty vision most often reveals itself in attempts to convert inanimate objects into human beings.
It appears that he was accidentally dreaming somebody else’s dream.
The only place I went wrong, he writes, was expecting things to be perfect.
“I’m a roomful of broken hearts,” he tells her.
Oh, what makes a family not work?
