I take notes on books I read. I wish I had done so even as a child. But. Notes trigger ideas in me, validate feelings often unexpressed or ephemeral. Answer the whys. Illuminate the squelched thoughts. Give me hope, yank me from despair.
I love this thought from P170 of The Burgess Boys, by Elizabeth Strout:
"And she learned - freshly, searchingly - of the privacy of sorrow. It was as though she had been escorted through a door into some large and private club that she had not even known existed. Women who miscarried."
Anyone who has miscarried (myself, my daughter, some friends)finds this reflection resonates. Deeply and profoundly.
It's a private club. Lifetime membership.