Sundial

by Catriona Ward

The mess of adult life, where you’ve both dug in so deep, where blame is a tapestry so tightly woven that it cannot ever be unpicked.

When people say something is “unthinkable,” what they usually mean is that they don’t want to think it. They are resistant to an idea. But that is not what unthinkable means. I understand that, now. It means to be confronted with a thought so vast, dark, and monstrous that it will not fit into any known shapes in your mind. It is poison and madness flowering behind your eyes.

The point of those conversations is to pretend that everyone has a lot in common. I was different—I ruined the fun.

It’s possible to feel the horror of something and to accept it all at the same time. How else could we cope with being alive?

Kids are mirrors, reflecting back everything that happens to them. You’ve got to make sure they’re surrounded by good things.

I lash out at and punish those I fear for. Those I love. Maybe we all do.