She promised herself on the trip that she would not dwell on her problems, that she’d banish the thoughts each time they crept in. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d felt as light. She found herself smiling for no reason at all. There were no worries. The kids were fine. They had their father, who loved them regardless of his feelings for her. The grandparents would compete for their company. The high school kids at the market spoiled them silly. Her children were not a worry. She didn’t feel obligated to consider anything else. She’d taken care of all that she was responsible for before she’d left. She stretched out in the sleeping bag, on the hammock, strung between the pilings beneath the bungalow and took a nap.
When she wasn’t napping, she wandered around exploring her refuge. There wasn’t a whole lot of commercial activity. She ate breakfast at a small diner serving breakfast Monday-Saturday, lunch Thursday-Saturday and nothing on Sunday. The brief exchange she had with the waitress offered a confirmation of her existence. She spent a day in Myrtle Beach to stock the pantry and buy books. She liked to watch the birds at the creek or the seemingly endless span of the Atlantic. She did only what she wanted to do, nothing at all. She did not write. She did not call. She did not regret.