Memory is a force. Already it is editing, reordering, creating a narrative out of raw feeling. There is no moment that couldn’t be rewritten and reversed in the future, no degree of joy that can’t become your undoing a few hours later.
And so, can love be continuous? Can you carry it unbroken from childhood to adulthood, wrestling it over the crags and pitfalls of adolescence? Can it come out the other side as the same kind of love, just expressed in new ways? Or are those two kinds of love disjunctive and creepily at odds?
Maybe it isn’t simply the answer that is baffling. Maybe the question is wrong. Maybe there aren’t two kinds of love. Maybe there are a trillion kinds. Or just one.
Trust and love go together and moreover there is love expressed in the places you usually forget to look.
You can feel things or you can find a way to shut down. But once you are feeling things, you can’t decide exactly what to feel. That is the trouble with letting them in at all. They make such a mess of the place.
You surround yourself with your pain or you avoid it and let it find you when you are trying to do other things.
So often you want to want things but you do not want to get them, but once you start allowing yourself some honesty, it can’t easily be contained or limited to one part of your life. It is like poison ivy or a bossy houseguest. Once it is there, you can’t tell it what to do. You have to really fight it to keep it from taking over.
Life-altering events fit into a disproportionately small amount of time. Like death, for instance. Or changing a friend into a lover.
Maybe it happens in a million different ways, when you are thinking of it and you aren’t. Maybe there is no gap, no jump, no chasm. You don’t forget yourself all at once. Maybe you just looked around one time or another and you think, Hey. And there you are.
Love is a rose, according to a song, and you aren’t supposed to pick it. Well, Alice picked it, and now she had the handful of thorns.
But Paul loves her. It makes her special. It is bound up in her identity from the very beginning.
I'll be honest....I had this book for a year and I wasn't too interested on reading it. I was wrong big time! A lovely story about.....I won't spoil your reading. Highly recommended.
Riley and Alice, two sisters now in their twenties, and as fiercely different as they are loyal, have spent every summer at their parents' modest beach house. And every summer growing up, there was also Paul, a close friend to both girls. Now, after three years away from the island, he's come back. But his return marks a season of change, of unspoken attractions, tragedy, and deep secrets that will launch three friends into an unfamiliar adult world, from which their summer haven can no longer protect them....Continua