"Who cares if it’s dangerous? Who wants to be the person who doesn’t touch two bells together to make a sound, who doesn’t hit a baseball with a bat, who doesn’t grind an orange against a knife. In life, there is only collision to keep us from dissolution, and there is only love to keep us from death."
— from How to Tell Toledo from the Night Sky, by Lydia Netzer
"A few days before she died, my mom called us all together and told us that she’d had a dream. She said that she dreamed she had died, and that she met my dad in heaven. She begged my dad to let her stay with him, but he told her: ‘You have to go back. Or there will be nobody to raise our kids.’ Three days later she got a very bad ache in her stomach, and we rushed her to the hospital. She lived for about a week, but she was unconscious the entire time. It was Christmas time, so on Christmas Eve I went and sat by her bed. At one point she sat up, opened her eyes, and looked right at me. I said: ‘Mom! Mom! Mom!’ But she laid back down, closed her eyes, and never opened them again.”
Shh. Secret swimming hole.