I decide to read a little more to finish the chapter. I’m nodding when she discusses creating domestic bliss, a household where love can flourish. “Spot on,” I say, reaching for a handful of the roasted almonds I keep by my bed for the night growls. My hand stills midreach when I read the next line. hooks calls her house in the country a sanctuary and refers to it as “soledad hermosa.” The brakes in my head screech, bringing me to a complete stop. My name. Right here in the book that is slowly but surely restitching the fabric of who I am. Soledad hermosa. Beautiful solitude.
