It isn't until your nearly a quarter of the way through "Six Years" that I realized Meg had hardly written about herself at all. She'd mostly been observing the world around her and her love of life - Patrick. This realization was strange because I felt like I knew her completely through her words and yet couldn't remember the last time a first person noun had appeared. This is the beauty of "Six Years" - observations and situations are dealt with so singularly that they could only come from one person - and diving into that person's perspective is refreshing and overwhelmingly joyful. It isn't always easy, and there is pain, but the blanket of love that surrounds Meg's prose is so warming and addictive that the digital pages flew by. And the chapter about Patrick eating apples is hilarious.