I don’t know how to reconcile the hostile outside with my peaceful inside. I don’t know if I even want to. Can we just stay here forever? In this house, arguments and emotions rise, but eventually fall again because we know each other. We trust each other. We love each other. At the end of the day, we don’t fear a wild hand or rogue bullet.
The African man-child that looks down at me these days might bristle for a moment under a corrective word, but ultimately circles back around with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. We have worked hard and loved much to convince him he is safe. In this house.
writinginpencil 