Portia

“How cruel life is only this long. Now that I see clearly, I’d like more time.”
― Virginia Evans, The Correspondent

“Then I climb my four back steps, walk over to the fireplace, sit back down, and read the whole damn thing, start to finish.
The fire crackles as I read.
When I 'm done reading, my eyes wet. I put the pages down and I stare into the fire for a long time.
Wood gives structure to back country life. So much time is taken, choosing a tree, felling it, limbing it,
chopping it into stove size logs, hauling the logs to the yard, stacking the logs, bringing them inside in armfuls.
What do I get for all my work? I get something wonderful. The crisp conversation of fire at night as it pops and creaks, like a storm in a jar.
A fire is a bedtime story. It starts fierce in high flame, but it's in the dying down that the fire is most itself
When the heat from the embers enters you and hushes all your intentions, both your goodness and your graft.
...
I have no regrets. I do not regret anything.”
― Amity Gaige, Heartwood

“Something about the physical labor moves me. It's as if I'm saying "all right, Maine. All right, winter. All right, time. You win.”
― Amity Gaige, Heartwood

“You're an idiot. You're not half the man she is.”
― Amity Gaige, Heartwood