...I also have an extended family. The people who stayed. The people who became more than friends; the people who open the door when I knock. That's what it all boils down to. The people who have to open the door, not because they always want to but because they do.

This living stuff is a lot. Too much, and not enough. Half empty, and half full.

As he stared into the ocean, he must have tossed a lifetime of apologies into its silence. Maybe he thought the tide would wash his troubles away.

A sense of freedom is something that, happily, comes with age and life experience.

Memories are simply moments that refuse to be ordinary

Its the journey that counts, not the arrival.

That's what I learned. I learned I couldn't shed light on love other than to feel its comings and goings and be grateful.