Thoughts of home

At first I hated it here. This area. This town. This house. Though I was born in Stockton I'd never lived here. Though I spoke the language this was foreign territory. I was an alien. It was like arriving late at a party and finding everyone was at the pairing off stage and anyone open to conversation had already left. I have never been more alone.

Still everyone else was happy so why would I be otherwise? The logic was clear. If my children had been sad, unsafe or in some way insecure then it would follow that I would share their strife. So if they were happy then I had to be happy and if I couldn't be happy for their sakes well I didn't deserve to be.

I owed it to them to find a way out. And I did.