Morgan Matson

Second Chance Summer

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  • h1221has quotedlast year
    Love isn’t all we need—love is all there is.
  • marti leonhas quoted4 years ago
    I pulled it out of my purse now and held it out to Henry, who smiled when he saw it. SOARING ROBIN, it read, with a bird in flight etched beneath it
  • marti leonhas quoted4 years ago
    I could see the very first stars starting to appear. “Come on,” I said. I smiled at him as I threaded my hand through his. “Let’s go home
  • marti leonhas quoted4 years ago
    were bringing the cups and plates (stolen, I was sure, from the snack bar
  • marti leonhas quoted4 years ago
    But one thing that I was learning about what happened when you stuck around—it usually seemed that other people were willing to stick by you as well.
  • marti leonhas quoted4 years ago
    There were still moments I missed my dad so much that it hurt, physically, like someone had punched me. There were moments that I got so angry, I was liable to snap at the wrong person, just to release some of the rage at the unfairness of it all. And there were days when I woke up with my eyes puffy and swollen from crying. But we—the four remaining members of the Edwards family—had somehow, against all odds, become okay with talking about our feelings. And on days when it was particularly bad, I knew that there were people I could turn to.
  • marti leonhas quoted4 years ago
    Bye, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”
  • marti leonhas quoted4 years ago
    That Murphy had, against everyone’s expectations, learned to fetch
  • marti leonhas quoted4 years ago
    there was nothing my father took more seriously than puns. So here, in the small Lake Phoenix cemetery, was the single punny epitaph: ROBIN EDWARDS. BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER… THE DEFENSE RESTS.

    I looked down at it, and could still practically hear his words, see his smile. Hey, kid! What’s the news? So I’d done my best to try to tell him, keeping him informed about our lives
  • marti leonhas quoted4 years ago
    Though he would be buried in Stanwich, he’d wanted a marker here, in Lake Phoenix, where he’d spent some of his best days
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