“Did I imagine that this was our pattern for all time? That we could grow old together, accusing and forgiving? Back then, I dind’t know what forever looked like. Maybe I don’t even know now. But that night in Piney Woods, I believed that our marriage was a fine-spun tapestry, fragile but fixable. We tore it often and mended it, always with a silken thread, lovely but sure to give way.”
