The Inexplicable Logic of My Life

Well, I always think I’m in love, but now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. Not really. Just these little, I don’t know what to call them, these attractions to good-looking bad boys

She could be a storm. But she could be a soft candle lighting up a dark room.

She is happy.

And me? I have never been this happy.

I keep that memory somewhere inside me—where it’s safe. I take it out and look at it when I need to. As if it were a photograph.

No matter where I go, I’m going to have to take me along for the ride. But the good news is, I’ll be taking everyone I love with me too.

I believe that the friendship between my dad and my mother was something incredibly rare. Their love created a family. A real family.

I will have to learn to bend to the inexplicable logic of my life.

“I know who my father is. I have always known.”

That’s the way it was when you loved someone. You took them everywhere you went— whether they were alive or not.

And there was one thing I could be certain of: I was loved.

Life had its seasons, and the season of letting go would always come, but there was something very beautiful in that, in the letting go. Leaves were always graceful as they floated away from the tree.