"Once upon a time, I slipped these shoes from my feet and dug my toes into the sheepskin rug of a vintage car that drove me to a registry office in England. It was July, and the roses were magnificent."
"Some days the weight of my sorrow bends my back and threatens to break my shoulders."
"We drove along back roads to the storage unit, my daughter and I, on one of those perfect New England spring mornings when it seems the bleak monotony of winter might be forgotten. I was grinning when I opened the storage locker's door, then sadness resettled like dust."
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