I tend to shy away from anthologies.  My favorite books are rich in detail and development.  Most often, short stories and essays lack that depth and leave me wanting.  

 

But then a compilation like These Precious Days comes along, and I’m immediately reminded that not everything that is succinct lacks substance.  

 

Quiet.  Contemplative.  Intimate. 

 

As Patchett regaled me with story after story, it began to feel like a private conversation, as though I was having coffee with a dear friend.  This collection brimmed with emotion and insight, and I eagerly hung on to Patchett’s every word.  

 

At the time I read this work, the world felt bleak.  So much heartbreak.  So much anger.  But these stories folded me into the warmest hug.  They made me laugh.  They made me cry.  Most importantly though, they gave me a sense of peace that was lacking in real life.  

 

These Precious Days felt like a sweet and timely gift.