Hester Prynne, Hawthorne writes in The Scarlet Letter, “did not flee.” She moved with her fatherless child to a “little, lonesome dwelling” on the outskirts of town. Of course she did. One step shy of the witch in her cave, our Hester, marginalized by an entire community. I learned that while the fallen woman may keep her unloved door plain and her drapes drawn, her circle small and her fire low—if she’s wise, I suppose, she will—the path to her back stoop will be well-traveled. I guarantee it.
