Reb

“Fresh sorrows reactivate old ones. We go to the same well to grieve, and it's fuller every time.”
― Ann-Marie MacDonald, The Way the Crow Flies

“Yes, it’s an abomination,” he said, lightly, although he knew it wasn’t. Knew it couldn’t be. It was the cleanest, purest part of him.”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam

“I had begun to notice that, just like my new friends, other people laugh about their loved ones' observance of peculiar habits, but with the same fondness of possession. She wears a coat even in the summer. He won't talk to anyone before breakfast. I realise, now, that my mother could still have loved me, if she had chosen to. It is possible to know the oddities of people and to love them regardless. I want this to comfort me, but it does not. I had always thought that I was an unloved child purely because of my peculiarities. Since Vita and Rollo and their cheerful celebration of my strangeness, I wonder if there was something else Ma witnessed in me, something that she found not simply different, but abhorrent.”
― Viktoria Lloyd-Barlow, All the Little Bird-Hearts

“Excuse me?" came a voice from behind her, and Elizabeth turned to find an old woman smiling gently. She had frizzy white hair and shoulders curled into a permanent shrug and a small fabric grocery bag that she held, meekly, in both hands, in front of her.
"Yes?" Elizabeth said.
"Do you need help?"
"No. Why?"
"Because," the woman said, all full of sympathy and compassion, "it looks like you're unraveling."
Which—fuck it—that was enough.
"HOW DID YOU KNOW?" Elizabeth cried, her voice breaking. This was all she could take on this day, in this hour. She had reached her capacity, could endure no more abuse. Here she thought she'd been projecting perfect maternal calmness and serenity and it turned out that this woman, this stranger, could see right through her, could see how Elizabeth was, indeed, coming completely apart.
"What?" said the woman, flinching and sort of jumping backward. "No, I mean"—she pointed at the floor—"your wrap, it's unraveling."
And Elizabeth looked at where she was pointing and saw about four feet of purple fabric bunched around her shoes.”
― Nathan Hill, Wellness