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My daddy had made sure that I was educated not only in my books but also, as he had once described it, in the code that dictated our lives in Alabama. Knowing when to keep your mouth shut. Picking your battles. Letting them think what they wanted because you weren’t going to change their minds about certain things.
“Sometimes love can kill you, just like hate. You love too hard and you can lose yourself in other folks� sorrow.
I had never known that good intentions could be just as destructive as bad ones.
How did one move on from family? Didn’t she understand that family was so much more than blood? It was shared experience and history and pain. Those girls were as much my family now as they were hers.
