The grasses toss and shimmy. The horses nicker. Madame Manec says, almost whispering, Now that I think about it, child, I expect heaven is a lot like this.
Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying time heals all wounds is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.
What if a girl grew up like a boy, with marriage an abstract, someday thought, a thing to think about when she became an adult, a thing she could do, or not do, depending? What would that look and feel like?
An endless, meaningless string of apologies signals a failure to change one’s own behavior. What matters is not whether the person was authentic or really meant it in those passionate expressions of remorse. All that counts is whether that person follows through so there is no repeat performance.
