- But the song of my past has been so altered–not the sequence of notes, exactly, but the pitch–that I find I can’t go on writing about my past without sharing my present with you.
- I suddenly found myself confessing about the aneurysm (because I didn’t want him to think I was just clumsy). The details burbled out of my mouth like something carbonated and shaken.
- I’ve been especially indisposed to discussing our effects and remains. I fear that once these things have been decided, my body will just quit. I have this strange sense that the thing in my brain has a mind of its own, and I imagine it’s vindictive too. I don’t want to make it angry. I don’t want it to know I have my ducks in a row. I don’t want it to think I’m ready to go.
What I especially like about these particular lines is that they are so masterfully crafted that they don’t even need discussing; they stand alone, as gems.
I have to admit that I feel a bit sad at the prospect of ending our discussion of The Girls. It isn’t that I have a long list of things I’d like to talk about. Rather, I feel as though I have developed a relationship with almost every character in the book, and I’m reluctant to let them go. The people felt very real to me, especially (of course) Ruby, Rose, Aunt Lovey, and Uncle Stash. And that, in a nutshell, is Lori Lansens’ gift. What a great writer. I’m compelled to investigate this author and read her other works.
An aside. In a class I was taking last year with other nurses who are returning to the field after an absence, I met and became friends with a young woman named…Rubirose! (pronounced RubyRose)