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She hated that she sometimes got so angry she cried.
“Nothing in life goes according to plan. Nothing. And the sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”
She was so young. She had no idea how long life was. People always said life was short, but it wasn’t. Not really. You could cram so many different lives into one. Be so many different people.
Marty and Tanner may have grown apart over the years, but the love of a sister was as constant as the sun. You might not feel its rays every day, but it was always there.
“Sometimes it just feels like we still spend so much time trying to teach the house not to catch on fire, instead of teaching the arsonist not to light it.”
She tried to swallow again, but her throat was dry. “I sometimes feel like you’re the only person in this whole world who . . . understands me.” Mrs. Wilt squeezed her hand once more and sighed. “Oh, Tanner. I just understand what it’s like to be a woman.”
After all, mothers and daughters have been hugging each other—have been fighting and making up—since the beginning of time.
But Tanner, of course, like most daughters, would make many more choices throughout her life that Candace would likely not agree with, causing a fair amount of stress and anxiety, which her mother would then naturally reabsorb and view as her own shortcoming somehow.
In life, there were two kinds of friends: friends who would wish you well on your journey to battle, and friends who would jump in the trenches with you.
To them, she was a mother, and once a mother, you’re never quite a fully formed person in the eyes of your children.
