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It was a bit like looking into the sun. Warm and inviting, but painful.
Her presence did something to him, unnerved him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. She threatened to awaken a longing inside him that he didn’t deserve and could never have.
“Everybody dies, but not everybody really lives. I said we should make a list of all the stuff we wanted to do while we’re still alive. Because you don’t know how long it’ll last.”
Mix baking soda, water, and a few drops of lavender essential oil in an empty shampoo bottle and shake to make a paste, and there you go. Homemade shampoo.”
“It’s got a three-year shelf life and works great for dozens of uses other than baking. It provides relief for bug bites, rashes, inflammation, and itching. You can make mouthwash or mix it with cornstarch for deodorant. It’s as close to a miracle product as we’re going to get.”
But she couldn’t save him. Just like he couldn’t save her. Not really. The hard work had to be done yourself. But that didn’t mean you had to make the journey alone.
It was a strange thing to step inside another person’s loneliness. It was like entering a darkened cave, feeling along the walls, bumping into sharp edges, learning the contours of a foreign yet familiar place.
“The consolidation of power in the guise of public safety. It’s an age-old game that’s been played a thousand times throughout time on government stages large and small. The erosion of our rights is the slow death of freedom. We’re the frogs basking in the warm pan bath while the water boils us to death, and some of us don’t even realize it.”
“We honor civil authority wherever possible, to the point where such authority abuses the people it is set up to protect. Where the government threatens freedom and violates those God-given rights, we have a duty to resist.”
“You just add a cup of ice melt salt, like what they use on roads and sidewalks. But make sure it has the calcium chloride stuff in it.” He poured the salt into the sandwich bag, then picked up the smaller baggie. “Add half a cup of water to this one and push out all the air bubbles, then seal it.” Milo had put the water bag inside the larger ice salt bag and sealed it. He’d handed it to Hannah, his face beaming. “Keep them in your coat pocket. When you go outside, squeeze it to puncture the water bag, then shake it to activate. Boom!”
The recommended thickness to walk on ice safely was four inches.
“God is love. Love is just,” Bishop said like a chant, a prayer. “God is justice. This is justice.”
spray bottle filled with three parts vinegar to one-part water to spray on his windshield the night before snow to de-ice it—at least the truck windows were nice and clear.
Nothing that truly mattered in life came easily. That was as true before the collapse as after. Nothing was owed to you. Nothing. Not love. Not freedom. Not even family. Relationships weren’t a given. They weren’t a right. They were made. They were forged through blood, sweat, and tears. Through time, energy, and commitment. Through good times and bad, through hope and despair. Love had to be earned. So did freedom. Sometimes it had to be earned again and again. If you weren’t careful, it slipped right through your fingers.
“The question is not whether violence is good or bad. But what is violence in service of? Is what you’re fighting for worthy?”
