The sun throws her last beams of burnished orange through the kitchen window, elongating Father’s shadow—he appears taller.
I look up, my feet pointed at the stove.
It’s only the first day of my new life and I’m already exhausted. For sure, I never knew sorrow and joy could coexist so close to each other, occupying the same space, living in one tender heart.
This morning my grandmother went back to her monastery, my home for so many years as a novice nun. I decided not to join her again, but to return to lay life instead—the life I was ripped away from many years ago. A gnawing ache has nestled itself deeply into the hollows of my heart. How I’ll miss them, my dearest sisters in solitude. Will I ever see them again?
I don’t want to think about it. I’ve made my choice.
I’ve decided
