I Was Kind Of An Outsider Growing

I Was Kind Of An Outsider Growing Up, And I Preferred Reading To Being With Other Kids. When I Was About Seven, I Started To Write My Own Books. I Never Thought Of Myself As Wanting To Be A Writer-i Just Was One.

In Orphan Train, Christina Baker Kline Seamlessly Knits Together The Past And Present Of Two Women, One Young And One Old. Kline Reminds Us That We Never Really Lose Anyone Or Anything Or – Perhaps Most Importantly – Ourselves.

I Was A Daughterless Mother. I Had Nowhere To Put The Things A Mother Places On Her Daughter. The Nail Polish I Used To Paint Our Toenails Hardened. Our Favorite Videos Gathered Dust. Her Small Apron Was In A Box In The Attic. Her Shoes - The Sparkly Ones, The Leopard Rain Boots, The Ballet Slippers - Stood In A Corner.

Time Passes And I Am Still Not Through It. Grief Isn't Something You Get Over. You Live With It. You Go On On With It Lodged In You. Sometimes I Feel Like I Have Swallowed A Pile Of Stones. Grief Makes Me Heavy. It Makes Me Slow. Even On Days When I Laugh A Lot, Or Dance, Or Finish A Project, Or Meet A Deadline, Or Celebrate, Or Make Love, It Is There. Lodged Deep Inside Of Me.

The Only Language She Could Speak Was Grief. How Could He Not Know That? Instead, She Said, "i Love You." She Did. She Loved Him. But Even That Didn't Feel Like Anything Anymore.