Our great adventure ran out of petrol and stopped on this farm.
I'm not sure if my dream is a dream, or a nightmare.
I walked out of his room sure I'd said the right thing maybe not as a father but as a Dad. I'd said the right thing, for once in my life.
I'm glad she left me the kids. I'd be lost without them. Lost and bitter. With them here, I'm only bitter.
I work hard in the orchard, not for the money anymore, but for something I can't explain. Something worth more than money.
She taught me what's important, and what isn't. And I've never forgotten. And that's what mothers do, I say.
It was a good apple too. A good apple, picked by a madman on a full moon night.
And I feel like a real Dad when I read to her at night. She won't sleep without one story, at least.
I tell him about ... Jack and Annabel, smart and ready and I'm wondering where all that smart comes from and I figure some from parents, some from school, and some from a place inside you.
I’m alone with the ghost of the swamp, somewhere near the weeping willows.
She didn't have an answer for that. People like her only ever have questions.
I know that today, with a full tank, and with Annabel, that it's time to go.