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not blame him, Mom, but I sure as hell do. And I blame you, too.
    On a normal day, I’d save this cluster of hives for last, but this has not been a normal day. I need peace, I need to think, and that means I need to go to my hillside first. The crest of the hill is covered by trees, and my hives are just at the edge of the woods, hidden from the view of the miserable little cluster of buildings by a large boulder. I set it there not only because it’s a perfect spot for my bees – the shallow slope is covered with wildflowers - but also because it’s my favorite place in the compound. From there, I can see far away, and with my eyes lost in the horizon, dream of better days.
    Today I dream about my mother deciding to run away with me. She should want to do that if she is as horrified as I am by the very idea of my marrying Satan’s son.
    How would it happen? Would she just wake up one day and realize that this was wrong? That handing me over to that sadistic monster was wrong? I sigh. I’d best just gloss over that part of the daydream. Get to the part where we leave, and Daniel and Joshua come with us.
    Of course, there’s the question of where we’d run away to.
    For a long time, I dreamed about just going home. Even if my father was dead, the house hadn’t vanished. It would have passed on to Mom and me. After the second time I was forced back, during the long healing, I learned otherwise. Father Emmanuel showed me a printout from a title search. My home was gone, repossessed by the bank. Could it have been fake? Perhaps. I don’t know. I have no idea what a genuine title search would look like.
    If I knew where Sean was, I’d go to him in a heartbeat. When we were little, he was my protector. When my dad came back from war with only one leg, there were kids that made fun of me for having a cripple for a dad, or who asked how many babies my father had killed. Thanks to Sean, none of them did it more than once. Would he still stand up for me today? It’s been so long since then.
    Where is he now? What is he doing? Is he even still in the Navy? Lying on the grass in the shade of my boulder, I look up at puffy white clouds overhead. White, like a sailor’s uniform. I have to giggle at the thought of oh-so-serious Sean Pearse, coming home to me from work all dressed up in a sailor suit. It seems fun and silly, but then a whole different idea hits me: what about Sean coming home from his ship to me, and I meet him at the door wearing his uniform?
    In my mind, I see his eyes light up as my hips sway to a beat only the two of us hear, and I slowly discard each piece of the uniform, one at a time, leaving a trail of white fabric all the way to our bedroom. And when my beloved can’t wait until we get to the bedroom? Well, truth be told, neither can I.
    Living on a farm for all this time has left me a solid working knowledge of the mechanics of the act. I’ve seen the cows and the sheep and the goats, and I’ve helped in birthing calves and lambs – but anything beyond the physical side? A woman married five years should have no mysteries or curiosities left in the bedroom, but then, very few women have had a marriage like mine.
    What would he like? What would make him happy? What would make him want me most? I don’t even know anymore, but I try to guess in my daydream. But that’s all it is: just a daydream. It’s not real. In my mind, he comes home to me every day, and I have nothing to fear with my protector there. In my imagination, there is no pain when I walk, and when I dance for him, I do it on two perfect, straight legs. Two legs I can wrap around him and … mmm.
    Oh, Sean. Where are you now? I hope you’re well, and happy, wherever you are. I miss you so much.
    He’s not here, but I won’t let that bring me down. No. I’m twenty-three years old. I still have an entire life ahead of me. It doesn’t really matter if I don’t know precisely where my next home will be. What really matters is that I