At the kitchen table, the flame of the oil lamp wavered occasionally. The wind continued its ancient vendetta against the windows, accompanied by the liquid thunder of waves. Tom tingled at the knowledge that he was the only one to hear any of it: the only living man for the better part of a hundred miles in any direction. He thought of the gulls nestled into their wiry homes on the cliffs, the fish hovering stilly in the safety of the reefs, protected by the icy water. Every creature needed its place of refuge.
The Light Between Oceans
M. L. Stedman
True. So hauntingly true. Am I strange to covet this place of total isolation? Obviously I'm reacting to the amping up of schedules. We've gone from near zero to past sixty in the last seven days just like most other families I know with school-aged children. When life feels frenetic, I dream about freedom. Solitude. Escape.
On Peanut's mind: Stop typing already and pet me!
