” . . . Once in the truck, she glanced at the house. From the outside, it wasn’t much. But to her it was everything she needed. A place to retreat and lick her wounds. Somewhere she didn’t have to pretend. Sanctuary. . . .”
Thankfully, I have somewhere like that – my bed at home. I’ve been spending a lot of time in it the last six months or so. It’s a place I can go and shut the world out. I’ve needed to do that for physical and emotional healing while I deal with the cancer and its effects on my body and mind – my life. I’m glad it’s here for me, as I expect to need it off and on for quite a while yet.
” . . . “I’m sure her time in the army has changed her.”
Carly rinsed out the dishcloth and hung it over the sink. “How do you know that? You barely knew her before.”
“How could war not change someone?”
Right, so the current language is that a cancer patient “fights” the cancer. ‘Nuff said. Or if you don’t get what I’m saying from that, please see “Awakening.”
“She had to admit, looking better made her feel a little better. More here rather than in some kind of emotional limbo.”
Emotional limbo – been there, know that place. It’s not Always a bad place to be. Sometimes it’s a way station for where one needs to go while necessary subsurface processing happens.
“. . .” You’re not stupid and you’re not alone. We all do things that don’t make sense to other people.”
I’m sensing a theme here. I like it. I resemble that remark.
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