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1 " I don’t want to be hurt again, so I’ll prepare myself for the worst and hope for the best. The thing is, nothing lasts because nothing is required to last. There’s nothing to gain from being hopelessly in love. "
― D.E. Eliot , Ruined
2 " Denise Collins would be the first to tell you that there are no words. She never knew pain—not like this. Pain so endless, so agonizing but so serene that if she stood in one place long enough, her knees would buckle. And if she didn’t focus on something else quickly, she would faint. In silence, Denise stared down at her child. Half of his face was gone, around the cheekbone, a sunken pit where his left eye used to be, but she didn’t see that. She didn’t see the missing pieces, the severed right hand, the broken bones in his legs. All she saw was her son. Her prince. Her little man—dead.She leaned over gradually and pulled him up, supporting Jimmy’s body against the strength of her chest. There was no life in his arms as they hung over hers. He weighed next to nothing as she rested his head against her shoulder. It was their last embrace, their good-bye hug. A soundless sob escaped her lips. Denise wanted to call to him even though she knew he had gone where he could not call her back. She cradled him in her arms, oscillating to the rhythm of a song only she could hear.A mother and a son. "
3 " There are no words, not in English, Spanish, Arabic, or Hebrew, that have been invented to explain what it’s like to lose a child. The nightmarish heartache of it. The unexplainable trepidation that follows. No mother loses a child without believing she failed as a parent. No father loses a child without believing he failed to protect his family from pain. The child may be gone, but the yearsthe child were meant to live remain behind, solid in the mind like an aging ghost. The birthdays, the holidays, the last days of school—they all remain, circled in red lipstick on a calendar nailed to the wall. A constant shadow that grows, even in the dark. As I was saying…there are no words. "
4 " These spinning rooms leave us with so much to ponder, so much to remember, nothing left to regret. It doesn’t matter how we began, only how we forget. "
5 " Sometimes, and I guess it’s a bit rare, you do find that one person who makes the idea of being in a relationship sound so damn easy you can’t explain the emotion of it. You wake up in the morning thinking how can I make them smile in such a way they refuse to think of anything else but you. And each day, saying good night is truly the last thing you wanna do or even could do. You forget all about being timid, you throw caution to the wind, and you hope that the decision to love them is more than just your imagination. Everything with them fits—everything. Their smile is a song to you. Their laughter is the music. You watch their chest to see if your breathing is in sync because I deduct that’s what love is—rhythm. "
6 " You got three kids, three deadbeat baby daddies. How in the hell are you going to be able to attend college while managing a broken home? her mother asked. A couple of her aunts and cousins asked that same question. Even a few fake ass friends dared to ask. But her grandmother did not. Nisey, her grandmother would call her, you got to make the most outta the sunshine even when it’s raining. Grandma, Denise remembered saying with a chuckle, there isn’t any sunshine when it rains.When the devil is beating his wife, there is, she would clap back. Grandma was the truth, a continuous lesson to be learned. And not once would she ever allow her Nisey to think her goals weren’t achievable. Grandma just wished her encouragement would lead her grandbaby into the arms of a good man. Ha! A good man? What did that even entail? God knew Denise had her fair share of so-called “good men.” Today’s good men were just as needy as most women, if not more so. And the ones who weren’t needy wanted to save you. She didn’t like that shit. She didn’t want that shit. What she wanted was a man who knew his role, not some grown-ass child who had less intelligence than her ten-year old son. She didn’t need another mouth to feed. She didn’t need another cheating-ass nigga with empty pockets and a small package. Love no longer existed. Not the way it had for her grandparents. Not even the way it had when she was in high school. Situationships, not relationships. Love was no longer good poetry. Today, love was nothing more than bad literature in a poorly written romance novel, sold at truck stops on Route 66, between don’t-want-a-nigga and don’t-need-a-nigga road. "
7 " There is no replacing you; there is no you after you. "
8 " Love is eternal medicine even when the one you love is gone. Love is the ultimate cure to healing all wounds. "
9 " Thank you for loving me. "
10 " A dog always knows where it can find food to eat, so it’ll come running look- ing for a fool to feed it. Honey, that’s not gospel; it’s fact.... And for years, I was that fool—feeding that stray not scraps but prime steak, lobster tail, crab legs, and whatever else comes to mind. "
