If You Have Just One Person Believe

But Something, Somehow, Had Made All These Paths Converge. You Couldn't Find It On A Checklist, Or Work It Into The Equation. It Just Happened.

I Think Part Of The Problem Sometimes Is That There's So Much Happening In My Books, To Whittle It Down Into A Single Script Is Hard.

And That Was It. All This Buildup To A Great Leap, And I Didn't Fall Or Fly. Instead I Found Myself Back On The Edge Of The Cliff, Blinking, Wondering If I'd Ever Jumped At All. It's Not Supposed To Be Like This.

Now, Now," My Father Said. "let's Just Get The Bags." This Was Typical. My Father, The Lone Male In Our Estrogen-heavy Household, Had Always Dealt With Any Kind Of Emotional Situation Or Conflict By Doing Something Concrete And Specific. Discussion Of Cramps And Heavy Flow At The Breakfast Table? He Was Up And Out The Door To Change Oil On One Of Our Cars. Coming Home In Tears For Reasons You Just Didn't Want To Discuss? He'd Go Make You A Grilled Cheese, Which He'd Probably End Up Eating. Family Crisis Brewing In A Public Place? Bags. Get The Bags.

Who Knew Three Dots Could Make Such A Difference? Like Everything Else, A Love Or A Wish Or Whatever, It Was All In The Way You Read It.