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No life is ever even the skinniest bit of predictable. People collide. They bounce away after collisions, or veer away to avoid those collisions, creating lives accidentally.
“This is the ultimate act of love, Eli, inhabiting you, living as you, shitting as you. To fully inhabit your body and not run away. There’s no way to love anyone more.”
wanted to believe in something more complicated. But I didn’t. The love of a parent shouldn’t have been any more complicated than what she described. Our job was simply, stupidly, to love them and keep them safe.
