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320 pages, Hardcover
First published March 12, 2019
I've never known my husband's body like this. The mechanics of it. The excretions. The fluids. The first time I memorized TC, I did so as an invited visitor, learning it through touch. Now I am one on a team of mechanics, standing next to it in stunned observation, waiting to take a look under the engine.
Everyone it didn't happen to seems to have a bold opinion about what I ought to take away from this terrible event.
Neither TC nor I would choose to spend our lives living in fear of those who might hurt us. Fear doesn't keep people safe, we've always seemed to implicitly agree. It keeps them small and scared.
Marriage is the act of choosing love again and again and again. It is the falling out of it and diving back in.
Getting home will be a three-flight, twenty-four-hour-long experience. More than enough time to contemplate the question I wrote down during my training: Will I ever love my husband again? The problem with this question, though, is its underlying assumption that it needs to be answered only once. As if I might be able to reconcile my life by simply falling in love one more time.