If growing inside her was something to live for, then why did it feel like she was dying? It was not easy keeping a lid on the past, a latch on the present, and a lock on the future. "Tonya . . . We are never free until we let go." How can I be true to myself, and at the same time, traverse in this universe without trespassing? "Are you lost?" He wanted to know. "No . . . I'm not lost . . . but I don't know where I am." In her journal that night, she wrote. "Why do some people get stuck as caterpillars, never able to emerge from their cocoons and become butterflies?"