Where You Belong Read Online Free PDF

well as to North Africa and Israel, where we visited mosques and synagogues. Grandfather was fascinated by places of worship whatever the religion being practiced in them.
    I heard his voice reverberating in my head: “It doesn’t matter whose house you sit in, Val, as long as you love God.” He had once remarked to me, “In my Father’s house there are many mansions: if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.” With those words of St. John’s Gospel ringing in my ears, I continued down the aisle and took a chair, sat staring up at the high altar in front of me.
    Sunlight was filtering in through the many windows above the altar. It was a light that subtly changed color as it seeped in through the stained glass panes in those breathtaking windows, changing from blue to green to pearl, and then to a soft yellow and a lovely lambent rose.
    It was the most tranquil light that seemed to tremble visibly on the air, and dust motes rose up into the shafts of sunlight. The peacefulness was a balm, and how cool it was within these thick and ancient stone walls. Cool, restful, restorative, a welcome refuge, far away from the turbulence and violence of the world I lived in when I was working.
    I closed my eyes, let myself fall down into myself, and eventually, as was inevitable in this quiet place of worship, I began to think of Tony, of his death, and of the future. And I asked myself yet again, for the umpteenth time, how I was going to go on without him, how I would manage without him by my side. I had no answers.
    It seemed to me that all of my energy ebbed away, leaving me deflated, and I just sat there, collapsed in the chair, with my eyes closed, for the longest time. I had no appointments, nowhere to go, no one waiting for me or worrying where I was. Time passed. And after a long while, just sitting there in the silence of the cathedral, I heard my grandfather speaking to me as if from a great distance. His voice was so very clear when he said, “Always remember this, Val, God never gives us a burden that is too heavy to carry.”
    IV
    The phone was ringing loudly as I let myself into my apartment an hour later. I snatched it up and exclaimed, “Hullo?” only to hear the receiver clattering down at the other end.
    Too late, I had gotten it on the last ring, and sticking out my good leg, I slammed the front door shut with my foot. Swinging around, I went into my tall, narrow kitchen, a place I’d always enjoyed but which I had not occupied very much of late. I like cooking, in fact, it’s a sort of hobby of mine, a way to be creative, to relax when I’m back from covering wars and the like. But because of my grief and misery, I had abandoned the kitchen, having no desire to be in it to cook only for myself.
    I had hardly eaten a thing these last few weeks, and I had lost weight. But suddenly, today, I felt really hungry and I opened the refrigerator, frowned at the contents, or, rather, the lack of them, and swiftly closed the door in frustration. Of course there was nothing worthwhile to eat in there, I hadn’t been shopping. I would have to make do with a mug of green tea and a couple of cookies, and later I would go to the corner store and pick up a few things for dinner.
    A moment or two after I’d put the kettle on, the phone began to shrill once again, and I lurched toward it, grabbed hold of it before the caller had a chance to hang up. As I spoke, I heard Jake’s voice at the other end.
    â€œWhere’ve you been all day?” He sounded both put out and worried at the same time.
    â€œWalking. I’ve been out walking, Jake.”
    â€œAgain. I can’t believe it. I bet if someone locked you up in an empty room and told you to draw a detailed map of Paris and its environs, you could do so without batting an eyelid. And all from memory.”
    â€œYes, I guess I could. But you do a lot of walking too, so why are