We can’t stay in one place and pretend it’s our home. It’s too much like being trapped. We have to get used to a completely different life. There is no fence to protect us if Baby accidentally drops her book or if one of us coughs. I long for summer to end, for the days to be shorter. But then I remember that we won’t have any heat. Maybe we can find a room to burn a fire, keep the light inside somehow. I have some time to figure it all out. As of now, we have to wait until nightfall to even use the bathroom. Not that there are working bathrooms to use. When I explain to Baby that she will have to go to the bathroom and not flush the toilet, she looks at me like I am insane. There’s no water, I explain. And even if there was, the flush would be too loud. At our house we only used the bathroom in the basement. You couldn’t hear it from outside. I realize I have to stop thinking of our house; we can’t go back there.
