Stephanie

“Any mother who tells you she loves all her children—or appraises them—equally is lying. There is no way to measure or balance love. Love is an animal of its own bidding and inclination; it prowls and pounces and feels; it grows and it hurts and it withers. My love for the girls was ranging and reaching. It assessed them because assessment was a part of protection. It saw their differences”
― Rachel Hochhauser, Lady Tremaine

“Until eventually,” he says, “the present becomes the past, and you are somewhere else altogether, hopefully in a better place than you are today.” My mom bends her head again and nods, and the man straightens and continues on. And I am so grateful I send a prayer to God to witness this man’s kindness and to grace him in some way. And as I watch him jog away, I think that in some ways this perspective is not so bad and that, sometimes, humans surprise you.”
― Suzanne Redfearn, In an Instant

“How do I get past it?” she mumbles, not necessarily to him. Hate. Hurt. Guilt. And grief. So much of it that I feel its thickness and its weight, like she is drowning and can’t breathe. “A single step at a time,” the man says, speaking from some profound experience of his own and with deep understanding, making me wonder if all pain might be the same regardless of its origin. “You’re still here,” he goes on. “So there’s not really a choice. An inch, a foot, not necessarily in the right direction, but onward nonetheless.” My mom shudders a deep breath, looks up at him.”
― Suzanne Redfearn, In an Instant

“Howell was a calm, collected leader, able to cope with losing men to death and wounds far more steadily than his battalion commander could and better able to keep his cool with the Korengali elders”
― Wesley Morgan, The Hardest Place: The American Military Adrift in Afghanistan's Pech Valley