I know I'll never get every single thing I dreamed of. I'll never be thin. I'll never win a Pulitzer or even, probably, the pie-baking contest at the Agriculture Fair in Truro every August {because I think the judges are biased against summer people, but that's another story}. I will never get a do-over on my first marriage, or on my older daughter's infancy; I'll never get to not be divorced. I will never give birth again, and neither of my births were what I'd hoped for. I'll never get my father back; never get to ask him why he left and whether he was sorry and whether he ever found what he was looking for. But, dammit, I got this far, and I got some stories along the way, and maybe that was the point, the point of the whole thing, the point all along.
( Jennifer Weiner )
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