Hello Beautiful

by Ann Napolitano

William had the strange thought that he might never see his parents again—that they’d only ever had one child, and it wasn’t him.

“And the kind of love you’re looking for is made up, anyway. The idea of love in those books—Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Anna Karenina—is that it’s a force that obliterates you. They’re all tragedies, Sylvie. Think about it; those novels all end with despair, or death.”

“The tragedy isn’t the point,” she said. “We read those books today because the romance is so enormous and true that we can’t look away. It’s not obliteration; it’s a kind of expanding, I think. If I’m lucky enough to know love like that …”

hers—gentle, warm—and they pressed together in the middle

chest, “I’m going to leave this place.” “Where? Your parents’ house?” “Yes, and this whole neighborhood. After college.

She would celebrate whoever her beloved happened to be; she would be curious about his distinctiveness and sink into a love that was unblinkingly honest.

“For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”

“You’re too young to really understand that life is short, but it is. I didn’t want to stop you when you were walking away from something that didn’t matter to do something that did. You and I are cut from the same cloth, baby girl. Neither of us would expect school or work to fill us up. We look out the window, or into ourselves, for something more.”

We’re all unstitched,

were both struggling to inhabit their own skin, a goal that would sound absurd to almost anyone else.

“More people cry than you would think. Having your own apartment is a big deal.”

“Do you need help?” “Oh, well, don’t we all?

occurred to him, for the first time, that just because you never thought about someone didn’t mean they weren’t inside you.

was hard for me to accept the fact that we don’t choose who we love, because who you love changes everything.”

our love was so deep and wide that it made me love everyone and everything in sight. Which included me.”

When your love for a person is so profound that it’s part of who you are, then the absence of the person becomes part of your DNA, your bones, and your skin.

“When an old person dies,” Kent said, “even if that person is wonderful, he or she is still somewhat ready, and so are the people who loved them. They’re like old trees, whose roots have loosened in the ground. They fall gently. But when someone like your aunt Sylvie dies—before her time—her roots get pulled out and the ground is ripped up. Everyone nearby is in danger of being knocked over.”

we need another pair of eyes. We need the people around us.”