Here’s a thing about the death of your mother, or anyone else you love: You can’t anticipate how you’ll feel afterward. People will tell you; a few may be close to right, none exactly right. Mary Schmich Read Quote
Opening day. All you have to do is say the words and you feel the shutters thrown wide, the room air out, the light pour in. In baseball, no other day is so pure with possibility. No scores yet, no losses, no blame or disappointment. No hangover, at least until the game’s over. Mary Schmich Read Quote
Chicago is constantly auditioning for the world, determined that one day, on the streets of Barcelona, in Berlin’s cabarets, in the coffee shops of Istanbul, people will know and love us in our multidimensional glory, dream of us the way they dream of San Francisco and New York. Mary Schmich Read Quote
For some Chicago expats, food is the medicine that blunts the pain of separation. Mary Schmich Read Quote
Every day each of us wakes up, reaches into drawers and closets, pulls out a costume for the day and proceeds to dress in a style that can only be called preposterous. Mary Schmich Read Quote
The movies we love and admire are to some extent a function of who we are when we see them. Mary Schmich Read Quote
TV happens. And once it’s happened, it’s gone. When it’s gone, you move on, no tears, no tantrums, no videotape. Mary Schmich Read Quote
I couldn’t have foreseen all the good things that have followed my mother’s death. The renewed energy, the surprising sweetness of grief. The tenderness I feel for strangers on walkers. The deeper love I have for my siblings and friends. The desire to play the mandolin. The gift of a visitation. Mary Schmich Read Quote
