I always find it a little ironic - a little pathetically hilarious - just how resistant to change we can all be to change, despite that chan

When I walked in, she was sitting there alone, staring down at her feed painfully, sweetly, a bit sheepishly. I walked across the tiny room and sat down on the twin bed beside her, its colorful pillows propped behind us in the corner next to the window. I remember looking out that very window through the tall and slender in frame, watching robins hatch from their eggs back when I was in preschool. Now, here was my 16-year-old self sitting, waiting, hurting. She was a curvaceo