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But as days turned into weeks and then months of silence, I began to move through a fog of my own, deeply questioning the masks people wear, the parts of our interiors that can be seen by others only if we choose to reveal them.

Hearts and minds can be as opaque as a rain forest; only small pieces of them are ever visible. And I realized this, too: You can’t contain the people you love. You can’t contain your own love, either.

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“There are no shortcuts to love,” she said. “Honor the truth inside yourself and give that to another.”

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I’m not sure if we fall in love with people or if we fall in love with the way they make us feel, the ways they expand who we are and wish to be.

Yet I can’t help but think that if it weren’t for how those interests were stoked in that relationship, I might never have recognized how badly I craved a life like those depicted in the books on my shelf, a patchwork of stories about faraway places.

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“It’s about honoring what happened,” she said. “You met a person who awoke something in you. A fire ignited. The work is to be grateful. Grateful every day that someone crossed your path and left a mark on you.”

Creds: The 12-Hour Goodbye That Started Everything