“What do you do when the thing you love wounds?” I felt horrible for calling her up in the middle of the night. She was hundreds of miles away in a cold city and a harsh school; I should have found some self control and rang her in the morning.

Without sounding curt or put out she spoke. I could hear the shape of her mouth in her words. A determined frown; drawn up in speculation and analysis.

“Sometimes, retreat is the better part of valor.” She knew me well enough to expect the pause at the other end.

“I ought to have made up my mind to stop by now- but it seems like laying down the sword.”

“Whatever you do, I love you. You can walk through this and be better, or walk away and still thrive. It just depends on tenacity.”

“Everything depends on tenacity.”