The rule of life was that the boys got to decide which girls were pretty; it didn’t really matter how ugly they were themselves.
The medications, the hormones, and the relentless frustration of our lives make us b**chy, and you’re not allowed to be b**chy in public or people won’t like you.
Early love is exciting and exhilarating. It’s light and bubbly. Anyone can love like that. But love after three children, after a separation and a near-divorce, after you’ve hurt each other and forgiven each other, bored each other and surprised each other, after you’ve seen the worst and the best—well, that sort of a love is ineffable. It deserves its own word.