I think I was too far past it.

What I felt instead was a strange, cold clarity, the feeling of a fog lifting off a landscape I had been walking blind through for years, and now that I could see it, I understood I had a great deal to do.

I remember thinking, oddly, of a thing my grandmother used to say, that the truth is a door that only opens outward: it can feel, standing in front of it, like a wall you are trapped behind, and then you push, and discover it was the way out all along.

For four days that truth had felt like a wall.