You want to defend those you love, even if the ones you love aren’t very good all the time. And sometimes they’re even downright awful.

It’s not easy to label people one illness or another. We’re all different combinations of crazy.

Boomer died of old age, but I’d figured out by now that death never makes sense, no matter how someone dies: murder, accident, old age, cancer, suicide, you’re never ready to lose someone you love. I decided death will always feel unexplained; we will never be ready for it, and you just have to do the best you can with what you have left.

I wondered how many world records had gone unrecorded. How did you really know yours was the world record and not just the only one someone had bothered to write down?

I know most families don’t celebrate every new moon or every solstice and equinox, but maybe they should.