And instead I got to watch the lights find each other.

It’s a peculiar grace, to be made unnecessary and to have it be the best thing you ever did — to spend your life being the one thing holding a place together, and then, in leaving, to teach the place to hold itself, and to discover that your true work was never the holding but the teaching, and that you’d been doing the teaching all along without knowing it, just by faithfully showing everyone, ten thousand times, what it looks like when somebody comes.

Chapter 13 — The Honey and the Butterscotch

I want to set down the small things, because the small things were the whole of it, and nobody writes them down and so nobody knows a route is made of them.

The butterscotch in the cup holder for Rennie.

Odell’s September honey.