in the notebook
there is one thing my father taught me that i have never forgotten. "no matter what happens, you must remain kind." other people may be selfish. cruel. cunning in small and ugly ways. they may twist the truth and invent excuses to hide the insecurities they cannot bear
in the notebook
my father spent his life preparing me to arrive in this world like a warrior. years later, when we went drinking with his friends, he had almost stopped introducing me as his daughter. instead, he would gesture toward me with that familiar pride in his voice and say, this one
in the notebook
whether they are the days i return to Saigon just to soothe my own hurt, the days i come back to be spoiled and find warmth in the arms of my friends, or simply the days i return just to stand there, lost and alone in the middle of a
in the autopsy
that night, i realized i barely knew anything about that man. i couldn't remember his birthday. i didn't know his favorite color. i didn't know all the things he wanted from life or what kind of future he imagined for himself. there will always
in the notebook
when i met your cousin, she told me that sadness had been running through your family for generations, and that it had shaped you into the tough, guarded person you are today. she then began telling me the stories from your past, the ones that had stayed hidden in the
in the machine
one of the things Gloria taught me early on was to stop confusing honesty with cruelty. she taught me that protecting someone's ego at the expense of the work does not make me kind, and avoiding difficult conversations only makes the eventual outcome worse. this is one of
in the notebook
i'd like to think that you're still at your own place, going on random trips like you always did. perhaps that's also how i've learned to excuse your absence from my life. maybe one of these days, you'll call me