You Bought Me Some Forks. And Knives.

As If It Didnt Matter What Was On, But Instead How Hard I Was Listening.

I Hoped That Grace Would Be A Little Bit Of The Best Of All Of Us: Scarlett's Spirit, And My Mother's Strength, Marion's Determination, And Michael's Sly Humor. I Wasn't Sure What I Could Give, Not Just Yet. But I Would Know When I Told Her About The Comet, Years From Now, I Would Know. And I Would Lean Close To Her Ear, Saying The Words No One Else Could Hear, Explaining It All. The Language Of Solace And Comets, And The Girls We All Become, In The End.

A Lot Can Change Between Planning Something And Actually Doing It. But Maybe All That Really Matters Is That Anything Is Different At All.

Best Friends. And I Thought Of What She Had Done All The Millions Of Times I Cried To Her, Collapsing At Even The Slightest Wounding Of My Heart Or Pride. So I Reached Over And Pulled Her To Me, Wrapping My Arms Around Her, And Held My Best Friend Close, Returning So Many Favors All At Once.

I Wondered Which Was Harder, In The End. The Act Of Telling, Or Who You Told It To. Or Maybe If, When You Finally Got It Out, The Story Was Really All That Mattered.