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He didn’t blame Naomi. He admired her strength, her spirit. But he saw Naomi as the wind traveling over the field, always
searching, never stopping, and never knowing that true peace is when you curl around one little piece of something. One little fern. One little frond. One person to love.
You can have it both ways, Jerome thought, turning off the lamp at Mrs. Cottle’s bedside, her peaceful cheek sinking into the pillow. You can have the wind and the searching, a...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Mrs. Cottle often said God gave us a vocabulary and cussing showed us for fools.
This is something I know: no matter how far you have run, no matter how long you have been lost, it is never too late to be found.
