When the Stars Go Dark

by Paula McLain

“Think, Anna. What makes a blind spot?” He meant like when we were driving. “Someone being right on your shoulder, too close to see.” “That works for people, too. Anyone under your nose just disappears. That’s the danger zone, right next to you. Whoever it is you trust the most.”

“Krummholz” is the word for this kind of vegetation I remember from one of Hap’s lessons, a German term that means “bent wood.” Over many decades, hard weather has sculpted the trees into grotesque shapes. The salt-rich north wind kills the tips of the branches, forcing them to dip and twist, swooping toward the ground instead of the sky.

When things got hard and you felt shaky, she liked to say, you could hit your knees wherever you were, and the world would be there to catch you.

Getting your heart broken is the privilege of being human,