There was magic in taking them from where they were, to where they wanted to be. It was a miracle every time.
I knew by then that I would never have my mother back, not in the way I had known her all my life. When you have seen your mother shattered, thereâs no putting her back together. There will always be seams, chipped edges, and clumps of dried glue. Even if you could get her to where she looks the same, she will never be stronger than a cracked plate. I climbed into bed beside her and closed my eyes, but I never relaxed enough to forget who I was and what had happened to us.
People say, that which doesnât kill you makes you stronger. But they are wrong. What doesnât kill you, doesnât kill you. Thatâs all you get. Sometimes, you just have to hope thatâs enough.