Description: From SANCTUARYWe kept looking at one another for a few moments as we walked. Suddenly, Eli grinned at me."What?" I asked, grinning too."Nothing.""Your ears are red." He laughed and took a breath. "What were we talking about?" he asked, looking desperate to change the subject. "Oh, my parents and Germany." I nodded, happy to listen to him. "When they talk about their childhood, and their homes there, and their cousins, and the lush green of it, a longing creeps into their voices. I can hear it and know how bereft they are they won't see it again." "Why did they leave?" "The first world war. They didn't want to be a part of that." "Maybe the longing for home is worse if you have to leave, but don't want to." "Yes," he said. "I would think it would be." A surge of panic went through me at the thought of that forced separation from Sanctuary. Again. "Our souls seem rooted to the place where we're born. We'll always feel that pull back." "Perhaps," he said, then a quirky, gentle smile crossed his face. "But can't we put down new roots?" "Perhaps," I agreed, wanting that to be true. But it was more complicated than that. I'd put down new roots at the boarding school and felt that gentle pull back to Elizabeth and our classmates and our school in the woods. But what I felt toward Sanctuary was different. As if -- beyond my control -- Sanctuary was yanking me back. It wasn't that on the island I felt a sense of belonging, but rather that I was a possession: I belonged to it, or to something that remained here at least. I wasn't at all sure if I could handle it.

Please Wait