Climbing the Rock Within by Jennifer Haig
Excerpt from Chapter 10:
At the beach house with Mom, Dad and I sat unheard,
unhealed. I kidded myself, imagined an ocean’s inner
stance, thought twice. I was no more free-spirited than past
high school weekends when I would sit alone in my room,
watch the ceiling. I had something to talk about then. I had
I watched my father through a porch door. In a gray
wicker chair he sat, his hand holding a book: The French Revolution.
Head bent low, his glasses rested on his nose. Against
the forested hills, he heard the same sea resonance I did,
maybe the same message. His quiet expression never changed.
Determined to snap our barrier, I approached his reclusive
“Come on the beach with me?”