‘When one door closes, another one opens. Usually. If not, make your own door.’
Amelia read the last line of the letter a few times. Leave it to her parents to find the right thing to say when she needed to hear it most. She saw how some folks in her circle handled divorce. Most of it wasn’t pretty.
Brie said it best – some folks chose to drown their sorrows in alcohol, others, anger. Both quickly killed the soul.
Maybe that was why Amelia found herself staring at the collection of books from her great-uncle’s wooden chest. There was something there that she could, and probably would, boldly consider. Maybe her own ‘door’ was found buried in these old treasures.