by Wendy Roman (Author)

This book is a declaration of pain, and prudence, and faith, and forgiveness. It is a wartime hymn, and a melody at a grave. It is winter and somehow it is spring, and then it is neither. It is letting go. It is coming forward, digging into your wounds, all raw and bloodied one last time, and then letting the blood congeal. This book is about making your own home. This book is about finding all your different pieces. This book is about patching yourself up from parts that are wholly yours; holy mine.