I’m home. Back to the place I wanted to leave in the first place.
I’ve spent the last few years, traveling all over, perhaps looking for somewhere to belong. There was no peace here, only anger, disappointment, and awful memories. I had no home to go back to, so I had no choice but to keep on moving.
Now I’m back, and this place is not the one I left. What happened to those I called my enemies? Why are they kind, and why do I like them now? Did something happen while I was gone? There is peace. I have all that I need. I am safe here.
A year since my return, and now I’m sure this is for real. Things change. People change. There is hope after all.
Now I want to leave again, but not for the same reason. Home is somewhere we must always leave, so that we may always come back to it. If I don’t leave, I will no longer be home. I will be a prisoner instead.
